


alphabet soup

by redyarns



Series: false god [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Foul Language, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Cancer, Misunderstandings, Multiverse, Mutual Pining, No abuse, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Peter is sad and lonely, Peter fucks up and tries to fix it, Peter is an asshole, Pining, Podfic Welcome, Requited Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Spidey loves Wade, Spideypool - Freeform, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Wade Has Issues, Wade accidentally goes to another universe, Wade is trying his best, Wade loves Spidey, Wade's boxes - Freeform, a universe where peter and wade are both well over 18, and is also more introspective than given credit for, and sleeps with the Peter there, but it's codependent and toxic, i realize how sad this all is but yes there is a happy ending, i wouldn't do my boys dirty like that, in which everyone messes up, it's just worlds in between, not mcu, self conscious wade, some bullshit multiverse theory on my part lmao, these are a lot of tags sorry, what a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:56:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redyarns/pseuds/redyarns
Summary: “Wade?”Wade took a step back, alarm running down his back as he slowly began to reach for a katana as the Spider-man clone stepped closer, wondering how the fuck he would know Wade’s name when he never told him, only Spidey then ripped his mask off and revealed large brown eyes, trembling lips, tears running down his round, pink cheeks. He was Spidey, but he wasn't.Wade froze, unable to move, captivated by the emotions running across Spidey’s face while the hero raised a shaking hand and slipped it under Wade’s mask before he could stop him.And Wade knew that it was wrong, it was wrong on so many levels, but when Spidey shuddered and whispered his name like a prayer from his cherry red lips and leaned up on his toes to press a gentle kiss to Wade’s mouth, the mercenary let himself be pulled into the bedsheets and arms of a Spider-man look-alike.





	1. a

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irgmugurg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irgmugurg/gifts).

> dedicated to bella, who is an absolute darling and supports both me and this fic like hell. this is all for you, babycakes! mwuah! <3

It began even before they officially met. There was talk about it, of course - a spider-themed superhero with a ridiculous costume and an equally ridiculous name reached Wade’s ears even when he was in Hong Kong doing a huge drugs bust and happily being quite liberal with where his blades fell. At the time, Wade had dismissed it - it wasn’t anything that interested him. In his opinion, New York was already oversaturated as it was, every nook and cranny crawling with goody-two-shoes and arrogant do-gooders. It certainly didn’t need another stupid _ hero _to be joining its ranks, not when it housed so many as it did.

So, understandably, he was a little miffed when his next job had him hopping on a plane and onto the overbusy streets of New York. As such, he realized that this Spidey guy could be a real annoyance while on his job; it wouldn’t do Wade or his client any good if the hero came and interrupted Wade, because damn, he already had his hands full with Fury and Stark on his ass as it was.

In light of this, Wade set to research his potential enemy as soon as he hopped off the plane and made his way to one of his many scattered safe houses across the country. The apartment wasn’t the best thing - it was pretty large, but it was absolutely trashed from the last time he was here, which was years ago. The air was stale and smelled like old McDonald’s, and Wade inhaled deeply while he stood proudly in front of the doorway.

“Good to be home!” He said cheerfully, slamming the door behind him and then dropping the duffle bag full of his weapons unceremoniously onto the floor. He collapsed onto the couch, and, deciding that today he was in a pretty good mood, decided to take off his mask and flung it off god knows where. He relaxed for a moment, grateful that he got off of that stupid plane. His teleportation belt was still being quite janky from his last fight, and when Wade had tried to activate the thing, he’d ended up in Wyoming instead of California like he was supposed to. So, yeah. No teleportation for now - it’d be a pain in the ass to end up in the damn Pacific Ocean or some shit if something went wrong.

{You should probably look up on that spider dude, dipshit.}

“Oh yeah!” Wade perked up, and after a quick dig around the messy apartment, he managed to find his laptop and he booted it up impatiently.

And then he froze when he looked at that _ spider dude. _

{Holy _ shit. _}

[Oh. Oh my god.]

“What the _ fuck,_” Wade whispered to himself, and he had to take a moment to bury his face in his hands before slowly parting his fingers and taking another peek, unable to stop himself. The picture that came with the article was - for a lack of better word - _ fucking amazing. _The hero was lean, fit in a way that was the complete opposite to Wade’s general buffiness, and he was mid-swing, hand wrapped around a thin white line and his legs up in mid-jump.

“Jesus christ,” Wade said, zooming in on his ass. Oh dear god, that ass. He might have whimpered a bit.

{Alslkdkskxjsj???}

[Did you just keysmash verbally?]

That was when Wade decided to read every article on the guy, maybe even taking screenshots of the photos because _ hot damn. _That was some serious spank bank shit right there - Wade had never seen an ass as delicious as Spidey’s, and he was shameless in his ogling and squealing. Even the boxes were infatuated, humming their agreements and even pointing out how supple and bouncy Spidey’s luscious backside was.

Because of this new information, Wade purposefully made himself loud and clear to the Avengers and whoever else was doing the hero shtick. He practically banged pots and pans on top of his apartment, even making a few public appearances in his suit, throwing peace signs at security cameras and even scaring the local hero worshipper or two to take a selfie with him and post it on Instagram.

As such, he was more than thrilled to find himself in an alleyway, stuck to the wall upside down by some very sticky webbing. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, and he honestly wasn’t sure if it was because of the fact that his head was pointed to the ground or how Spider-man was busy webbing his job target and had his ass facing Wade.

Wade let out a dreamy sigh, trying to memorize every flex and curve of that glorious piece of spandex-covered art before the hero whirled around and pointed a menacing finger at Wade - or, at least, _ trying _to be menacing.

(Wade thought it was adorable.)

“_You!_” Spider-man accused, and _ whoa, _ that voice was fuckin’ _ glorious. _It was smooth and velvety unlike Wade’s own sounds-like-I-ate-a-pack-of-cigarettes voice, and even better, he sounded young but not too young. Wade would have hated to shoot himself in the dick for being a pervert - it was one of the more worse ways to die.

“Me, baby boy,” and Wade winked. He felt a rush and a flutter in his heart when Spider-man stepped closer, close enough that his finger was now jabbing into Wade’s chest and Wade could smell a scent of sandalwood and sweat. He could feel himself get a little hard.

“What are you doing in New York?” Spider-man hissed, and Wade resisted the urge to coo. It was so fucking cute how he was trying to sound threatening, but all Wade could think about was touching that ass or, even better, kissing what must surely be an adorable face underneath the red mask.

“I’m here for you, sugarlips,” Wade said. It wasn’t a lie, per say. Sure, he’d started for the cash, but right now, he felt like he was staying in New York for quite a bit. Maybe he could even go prank Iron Dick later, just as a warning to not bother him and also see that hilarious pissed off expression he gets whenever he realizes Wade was back in town.

“I - you were about to kill her!” Spider-man gestured widely behind him to the unconscious woman who was spun into a cocoon of webbing, her long blond hair matted and dirty from her scuffle with Wade.

He shrugged and moved his hands as much as he could in a placating manner. “Listen, Spidey, I ain’t against you or Iron Tits or anything - “

“Iron Tits? - “

“Well, maybe I am against Iron Tits,” Wade said thoughtfully. “He’s a pain in the ass, you know. Last time I was here he threatened to blast my brains out, which, you know, _ rude! _ Yeah, Yellow, I know he’s a dick, that’s kinda my whole point. Anyway, I ain’t against _ you _specifically, but that bitch was a leader in a ring of human trafficking, a’ight? She was sellin’ dozens of kids under Stark’s pointy nose and yours for that matter. People like her are shit and can taste my bullets.”

“I,” Spider-man paused, before glancing over his shoulder. “She’s a _ what?_”

“A leader of a human trafficking ring,” Wade repeated cheerfully. “My client had his daughter taken, ya know, and _ man _ it pisses me off when kids are messed with. I woulda shot that cunt straight in the face if you hadn’t arrived.” _ Or at least skewer her guts a little bit, _he added on silently, mourning the fact that he could barely move, nevermind reach behind him for a katana.

Spider-man was silent, the eyes of his masks wide and his breathing quiet. But Wade didn’t mind - it was kind of cool being hung up midair like this, and anyway, he knew what would come next. Spidey would accuse him of being a murderer, try to toss him in jail, blah blah _ blah. _It was a normal routine and Wade was almost looking forward to it, if only for the brief joy of being chased by -

_ Crunch! _

Wade felt himself jump a little when he saw Spider-man whirl around and punched the woman straight at the side of her face, his fist leaving a large knuckle-shaped bruise that would definitely put her out of commission for even longer.

Wade gaped. And maybe came a little in his pants.

“No killing,” Spider-man said in a stern voice, turning on his heel and glaring at Wade. He pulled out a burner phone and waved it around in front of Wade’s face. “You catch someone? Call the police, okay? There will be no murdering on my watch.”

“Huh?” Wade said, feeling a little dumb.

“If you’re going to stay here,” Spider-man said, hanging up the phone after a quick chat with the dispatcher. “Then you’re going to stay under _ my _rules. No killing, Deadpool. I’m serious - if you even try, I’ll boot you out of this city.”

Wade felt a little starstruck - that and a little hesitant. Killing was his _ gig. _It was the whole thing that made Deadpool Deadpool. It was even in his name! Where did Spidey think he came up with his pseudonym in the first place? Unaliving sick bastards and watching them squirm under his foot as he put bullets into their brains while singing the My Little Pony opening song was his thing.

But Spider-man was there, phone already away and not a word breathed to the police about Wade. His arms were crossed, fingers tapping in impatience, a trait everyone seemed to gain around Wade’s admittedly insufferable personality, but he also wasn’t leaving like anyone else. Instead, he grabbed Wade’s gun off the floor, looked at it with a small noise of disgust, and thrust it back into Wade’s holster. “Guns for emergencies _ only, _Deadpool.”

{Holy shit.}

[I think we’re in love.]

Wade grinned.

“You got it, baby boy.”

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

The not unaliving thing wasn’t too hard, Wade found out. It took a little more precision on his part, like making sure he didn’t swing too close to the vital organs, or how Spidey once webbed him to a wall and left him there for an hour for shooting a rapist in the leg (though Spidey _ did _give said rapist a kick in the side when he thought Wade wasn’t looking), and how Wade was using more hand to hand combat than ever. It was sort of nice, because now his apartment didn’t smell like blood all the time, his costumes didn’t need to be washed daily/be thrown out entirely, and astonishingly, people now came up to him and shyly asked for selfies.

There was even a time when a darling little girl named Sophia wandered up to him and declared him as her hero. No, he absolutely did _ not _cry, no matter how much Yellow and Spidey teased him. (Except maybe he did. A little. A lot.)

(It was fucking cute, okay?)

It made Wade think that maybe this whole not-killing-thing wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t getting paid, per say, but hey, he had enough money to buy a country by this point, so it didn’t really matter. But he _ was _getting paid in some way, because he met Spidey almost every night! It was awesome to see Wade’s favorite hero all the time, and despite Spidey being a grumpy-pants half the week and insisting that he and Wade weren’t friends, Wade knew in his heart that they were totally friends.

Maybe even best friends!

As such, Wade perked up when he saw and heard a web sling onto the corner of the building beside him, and sure enough, there was a light noise and a silent landing while Spidey fell to a neat crouch behind him.

“Hey,” Spidey greeted, his tone light.

Wade beamed. He knew Spidey was stressed most of the time (alright, more like all the time) because of balancing both his quote unquote “normal” life and his superhero one. Because of that, more times than not, Spidey spoke in a quiet, sometimes frustrated way, but he always managed to crack a small smile or bark out a short laugh at Wade’s jokes. It filled Wade with pride whenever he managed to do so, because hell, he was so head over heels for this ass-licious man that it wasn’t even a joke anymore between him and the boxes.

By this point, it was just acceptance.

There was something indescribable about Spidey - and _ no, _ for once, Wade wasn’t talking about his ass, though it was truly something out of this world. It was just so astonishing to see how _ good _ Spidey was - sure, there were tons of heroes already, but Spidey wasn’t even an Avenger. He wasn’t paid, he wasn’t doing it for glory, and damn, he was young. Spidey was real secret-y about his identity, but sometimes he’d let his lips loose and tell Wade small details, like how he’d started the whole _ pew-pew _ web shootin’ business when he was only fourteen. _ Fourteen. _

This, of course, had Wade very worried for a moment, because _ fuck _ what if Spidey was still jailbait? But the hero had only scoffed and said, “I’m twenty-eight, asshole,” so that was that. Whew. Wade had been a little uncertain about the age thing, because Spidey’s voice was just that young-sounding, but he was nevertheless grateful that self dick shooting had not occurred.

But the point was that Spidey fought for good, genuine goodness, was a genius having made his own web fluid and figuring out his own powers on his own at such a young age, and most of all, didn’t push away Wade. Oh there were bad days, of course - sometimes, Spidey couldn’t stand to be near the (mostly ex) mercenary, which Wade didn’t even find offense in. He knew how difficult it was to be around him, so most days he let it go and just silently slipped away if he could hear the deep huffs of Spidey’s breath or see how tight his fists are.

Yet Spidey always came back, always said hello and an apology, and for Wade, that was enough. It was more than enough, and shit hit the fan when Wade had been singing Shake It Off and then suddenly realized _ oh fuck he was in love with Spider-man. _

It was a mess, honestly.

Wade tried not to think too hard about it.

“I brought tacos!” Wade chirped, holding up a bag of greasy mexican food and having to hold back giggles when Spidey followed the movements of the bag with his head. Spidey, as Wade had found out, often forgot to feed himself due to his stress and also lack of funds sometimes. As such, Wade was determined to stuff him full of food anytime they saw each other, because Wade had enough money to buy New York and Spidey didn’t.

“Oh thank god,” Spidey muttered, and he sat down quickly, crossing his legs on the ledge and digging out a taco before rolling up his mask to his nose and chomping half of the taco in one bite.

Wade gazed at him with adoration and sighed dreamily.

{Aw, fuck. Does he always have to be so fuckin’ cute?}

[Yeah, our poor heart.]

Spidey’s hero work and very fast metabolism meant he was already on his third taco by the time Wade managed to resurface from talking to his boxes, and sitting there at three AM watching Spider-man inhale mexican food like it was oxygen was something Wade treasured. It was precious to see Spidey’s face, if only half of it and with his chin covered in sauce, because every part of him was important and _ damn _did the boy have beautiful lips.

{I bet they’d look so good bitten.}

“Hell yeah,” Wade muttered.

“Boxes again?” Spidey said, voice muffled as he crammed his mouth. “What’re they saying?”

“That your lips are beautiful,” Wade says a little too dreamily.

Spidey scoffs, lets out a snort, and says, “tell them to fuck off.” And then shoves another taco into his mouth.

{What a bitch.}

[We love him.]

{Yeah, I know.}

_ I’m in love, _ Wade trilled to himself and the boxes. It was just reason fifty-seven as to why Spidey was just so damn lovable - he didn’t care that Wade was insane, and he even had conversations with the boxes sometimes, asking them questions and gouging out their differences and how they influenced Wade. Wade didn’t tell him about the bad days, when the voices came to be too much and they whispered the most horrifying things in his head, so much so that he took drastic measures to shut them up, but that didn’t matter. What _ did _ matter was that Spidey looked at him like he was any other person, and _ damn, _that was sexy.

“You aren’t going to eat?” Spidey asked, voice muffled. It was a recurring question, one he knew the answer to but still kept asking anyway.

“Nope!” Wade said, popping the ‘p’. Truthfully, he was starving, because Spidey wasn’t the only one doing hero work now (whoa, Wade was, like, half a hero now, that’s crazy) with a stupidly fast metabolism, but he didn’t want to subject Spidey to his ugly mug.

“If you’re sure,” Spidey said, then crammed another taco into his mouth.

Wade fell just a little more in love for the lack of pushing.

Ten minutes later and Spidey’s chin was covered in sauce and bits of lettuce, and he wiped his skin roughly with a napkin, licking his lips in satisfaction and making Wade’s heart race.

[Oh, lord.]

{You’re both pathetic.}

[Shut up, Yellow, you’re just as swoon-y and it’s gross.]

{Your face is gross.}

[I don’t even have a face???]

“I like you,” Wade blurted out, and fuck, man, having super-heated regenerative powers was cool and all (eh, usually, anyway), but damn did he wish he had the power to take words before they reached someone’s ears and somehow gobble the words back down. The boxes were going _ fucking feral, _ berating him as stupid and impulsive and _ fuuuuuuuuck. _ He definitely did _ not _mean to let that slip out.

But Spidey only let out a burp, smiled, and turned to Wade, his mask still half rolled up and identity apparently not as important tonight as it usually was. He was in a good mood, and fuck if that didn’t make Wade feel like he was over the moon, even if he didn’t directly cause it.

“I mean, you haven’t killed me yet,” Spidey snipped teasingly, and that was when Wade knew that he thought the ex-merc had been joking.

Wade wasn’t sure if he was grateful or disappointed, but he rolled along with it anyway, because _ oh man _ he was not mentally or emotionally prepared to open that can of worms, no siree. “What can I say, webhead? Your ass just makes me _ bug out. _”

“Okay, first of all,” Spidey began to say, sass already dripping from his words. “Spiders aren’t bugs, they’re arachnids, and you know it, ‘Pool. Secondly, did you get that lame joke off the… _ web?_”

At this, the superhero turned around dramatically, the lower half of his exposed face frowning seriously while he quickly shot out a small piece of white, sticky web fluid onto Wade’s chest, the material impossibly goopy and firm at the same time.

Wade giggled, high on the loose and friendly atmosphere, and moaned excessively with, “aw, yeah, Spidey-poo, hit me with your web-cum!”

“Oh my god, Deadpool, that was nasty!”

“You know you love it, babe!”

And Spider-man laughed, breathless as he swung on top of the next building and sat there, crouching, expecting Wade to catch up, and oh damn, did Wade have to stand there for a sec, a good ten feet of space between them because of the buildings, with Spidey perched higher than him. The moon was high that night, gleaming softly in the sky, and it hit off of Spidey’s suit just right, making him seem like he was glowing.

But the best part? He was still there. He was there, waiting patiently, a smile still teasing at the edges of his lips and the eyes of his mask crinkling to show his amusement. He wasn’t turning away, but instead watching, like he was making sure Wade was following, and oh _ fuck _this was so fucking sappy but goddammit Wade wasn’t breathing and his heart thrummed in his ears.

“You coming, ‘Pool?”

{Sappy. _ So _sappy.}

[He’s amazing.]

Wade grinned.

“Always, baby boy!”

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

It went like this.

At first, Wade denied his feelings, even if he somehow still accepted them at the same time. He acknowledged them, knowing that they lurked in his mind, probably doing fucking patty cakes with Yellow and White, but unlike his obnoxious boxes, Wade tried hard to suppress them. Logically (his boxes had laughed, because when had Wade ever thought logically?), Wade knew his feelings were just that. Feelings. They wouldn’t blossom into a relationship, no matter how hard Wade lied on his messy bed and looked up at his stained ceiling before giving in and reaching for the lube, guilt and pleasure eating his heart.

Spider-man was just too pure for Deadpool. Wade was fucked up in more ways than one, and hey, he hated a lot of people, but he wouldn’t want to subject his wrangled suitcases of trauma and angst on anyone, especially not on someone as good as Spidey. The guy was pure wholesome goodness, sarcasm, and sassiness, and Wade was also sure the guy was as straight as a toothpick.

And it wasn’t like Spidey even took his feelings seriously. Every now and then Wade would slip, his real emotions managing to come through the cracks of his joking facade, and Spidey would stare, confused, before moving along like all Wade had said was a silly crack or flirtation like usual.

So, yeah. Yup. No reciprocation. Which sucked fucking ass but it wasn’t like Wade expected any less, not when Yellow and White constantly reminded him that the man was too good for Wade, how disgusting Wade was, how it was horrible for him to even have that one inkling of hope that someday something would happen.

It’d been a bad weekend for all of them. Spidey had been angry, _ so _angry, about Wade accidentally distracting him during a scene and therefore let the motherfucker get away. Wade knew that other things had been getting to Spidey that day, as he’d told Wade in clipped tones about his shitty job and shitty apartment and shitty everything, and as such, broke in his fury and yelled at Wade, telling him to leave and stop bothering him and fuck off.

Wade had never left so fast, throwing himself off the building and not even feeling gratified when Spider-man let out a horrified screech, horror replacing his anger for a quick second as he tried to catch Wade with his webs but failed. The ex-merc only broke an ankle, and it healed damn fast, before Spidey’s fury came back and he swung away without another look or word.

Wade _ knew _that it wasn’t all his fault - after all, Spidey had warned him beforehand that he was feeling extra temperamental that day and had a feeling he’d be a shit person, but he still offered Wade to team up with a tight voice and tighter laughter. And Wade, so desperate to spend time with the coolest person in the world, accepted.

It led to him practically catching on fire with how fast he left, and by the time he got back to his apartment, he turned off all the lights and huddled on his bed, drawing the covers around him and refusing to take any part of his suit off. When the boxes became too loud, he grabbed the nearest gun and shot a few holes into the wall, the noise just loud enough to shut their fucking voices.

He stopped going out for a bit after that, depressed and angry at himself, before finally he sighed and inched the mask off of him bit by bit and threw it aside. It was hard to breathe in the thing, and Wade was careful to avoid any mirrors or turn on any lights, but he made pancakes at four thirty two in the morning and scarfed them down like a starving dog.

{Huh. We almost don’t feel like shit.}

“No fucking thanks to you,” Wade growled, but he cleaned his dishes anyway, breaking only one in the process and rolling his eyes when he had to impatiently watch the cut on his hand heal. Getting soap into open wounds was not fun, seriously.

[We should watch Golden Girls.]

“I’m not gonna listen to you,” Wade retorted, but he found himself sprawled out on his couch and flipping through the episodes anyway, the boxes becoming quieter and nicer and even offering a joke or two. God, Wade hated them, but they _ did _make pretty funny quips.

[We should patrol tonight.]

{What if Spidey’s there, though? I doubt he’d wanna see our butterface.}

“Don’t wanna go anyway,” Wade muttered.

[I thought you said you wanted to turn over a new leaf? Don’t you want to try for once, and _ not _rely on Spider-man?]

{Heh. I can’t believe I’m agreeing with you.}

“Do it… _ not _for Spidey?” Wade repeated slowly.

[I mean, like, we should go save people. But not because we want to impress him - we should do it because it feels good. Or whatever.]

{That’s some cheesy shit. But it wouldn’t hurt to impress Spidey at the same time, huh?}

[Ugh.]

“Hmm,” Wade said, tilting his head and crossing his arms in thought. The whole not unaliving business was pretty good for him, he had to admit. The Avengers didn’t bother him (though he was pretty sure it had more to do with Spidey influencing them, which, _ squee! _He protected Wade, and god isn’t that hot), he got to strike ridiculous superhero poses, and he even had several people shyly ask him for selfies.

There was a warm fuzziness that hit his chest whenever people grinned at him in full recognition, shaking his hand and thanking him for helping out in that fire last week or helping save an almost kidnapped child or even just simple taking out a breaking and entering. There was a lot more satisfaction to the hero shiz, and even if Wade didn’t think he could ever really be a _ hero, _and even though he didn’t have the clearest or purest intentions, he decided he liked being the good guy.

Well, a _ better _good guy, anyway, because as far as he was concerned, those dickheads he’d skewered with his precious katanas definitely deserved it.

“What if we see Spidey again, though?” Wade said, worried even as he began reaching for his suit and began to pull on the leather.

{Eh, we can just go the other way.}

[I doubt he wants to see us.]

“I wouldn’t want to see me either,” Wade sulked, but he was yanking on his mask and shoving his guns into his holsters before leaving the apartment with a final slam of the door.

{Wow. Talk about depressing.}

[Not that you’re wrong, but let’s save another episode of self-detrimental loathing for later.]

“Fair point,” Wade nodded, and he stretched, arms up high and breathing in deeply despite the mask covering his nose. “Damn, I forgot what fresh air smelled like.”

[We should clean the apartment.]

{For once I agree, it smells like some shit crawled up and died in there.}

“Maybe later,” Wade lied, knowing far too well that he wouldn’t clean shit. It was just a thing he had - cleaning meant permanent and permanent meant _ scary. _ He liked being on the move, not tied down to one place, not getting too attached to other people or things and taking refuge in his solitude and dirty apartments. But the worst part? He _ wanted _to. He wanted to clean, to use his energy as something productive, to mop up that flour mess on his kitchen floor because damn it annoyed the fuck out of him.

But he wasn’t going to clean when Spidey had already told him to leave, and besides, Wade was sure that one of these days Spidey would be fed up for real and tell Wade to hitch a ride and leave town for good. He wasn’t going to clean when that would happen.

It was getting too depressing for a night that was supposed to distract him from said depressing thoughts, so he gave himself a quick slap on the face that dispelled White and Yellow’s growing voices before he jogged off in search of a petty crime or two.

The first one came pretty quick, thankfully. It was just a simple mugging, but the guy had a knife and was brandishing it threateningly at a mother huddled protectively around her little son, and damn, did it piss Wade off whenever kids were involved.

“Heeeeey, there, bud!” Wade greeted cheerfully, but his voice was tight as he approached the situation and captured the mugger’s attention. “Lookin’ pretty sharp, huh?”

{Not one of our best.}

“Shut up,” Wade grumbled, and then he punched the fucker in the face with a satisfying hit and watched him collapse on the ground, knife rolling out of his limp hand and the mother and son looking at Wade with awe. He whistled cheerfully as he got a zip tie from his pocket and anchored the mugger’s wrists, before he called the popo and left a cheery note about their newest delivery, courtesy of Deadpool.

“Thank you,” the mother breathed, her eyes shiny with tears as she hugged her son close and pressed a kiss to his head. “I was so scared for Harry.”

“Are you a hero, mister?” Harry, the little tyke, could only be five at most, his eyes big and green and a toothy grin worming onto his face. “That was so cool!”

“You’re the new hero,” the mother offered.

“Hehe,” Wade laughed sheepishly, the rare feeling of embarrassment making his cheeks heat up while he internally cursed himself. Goddammit, he _ never _felt embarrassed, why on earth was this happening to him? “Uh, yup! Totes my goats! Er, I don’t know if I’m a bonafide hero but - “

“Nonsense,” the mother scoffed, looking far more at ease as she released Harry and began to dig around in her purse, making a noise of triumph when she took out her phone and waved it at him. “I work for the New York Times, so is it okay if I take a picture and write about you? Our new _ hero, _ of course.”

“Uh,” Wade hesitated, because this has never happened to him before, and it was kind of crazy and a little overwhelming.

[She called us a hero.]

{Take the picture, dumbass!}

Ten selfies later, Wade was waving bye as Harry and his mother left, the both of them thanking him for a final time before disappearing, and wow, it felt kind of good to think that they were safer now because of him.

“That was amazing, ‘Pool.”

Wade let out an admittedly high-pitched screech as he nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice, and he whipped around to crane his head up and blink at Spidey crouching low on top of the building beside him. The eyes of his masks were crinkled with the grin Wade knew was underneath the spandex.

“Spidey,” Wade said, taking a step back while his eyes widened.

{Oh fuck.}

[What if he’s still mad at us?]

“Come on up,” Spidey offered, already disappearing from the ledge and further onto the floor. After a moment, he stuck his head out again and said, “we should talk,” before going once more.

Dread started twisting Wade’s stomach, and the quiet elation of his interaction with Harry and his mother was fading faster than his record speed of eating twenty chimichangas in one sitting, and it was _ fast. _He debated whether or not he should obey Spidey’s order - after all, Wade had promised to himself to give the hero space, to recollect himself and recover from being too close to Wade in too small of a period of time.

[Well… he _ did _invite us.]

{Just go already, dumbass.}

Mind made up, Wade scaled the building, using the fire escape and also notching his fingers and feet into the many uneven chunks of brick carved out before he slapped a hand over on the ledge and heaved himself over. For a moment, he was bent over, a little breathless and clutching his knees, because damn, it was a lot harder when he couldn’t stick to walls or have cool web-shooters.

“Here I am!” Wade sang, standing up straight and flailing open his arms dramatically in an attempt to hide the nervousness he felt in his stomach. He cleared his throat and said, “what’s up, Spidey-babe? Missed me? Obviously not cause like, trust me, ain’t no one gonna miss my butterface. Though there _ was _this one time at a taco truck in Brooklyn and it was run by an old lady, and she was just the sweetest thing, Spoods, she like, greeted me by name and everything, even gave me free tacos whenever I rescued her devil cat from a tree - “

“Deadpool,” Spidey said, and his voice was soft, so soft that Wade immediately shut his mouth with a clack. The hero rolled up his mask up to his nose, and there was a small smile pulling at the edges of his lips. “That was really cool, what you did. And that lady was right - you’re a hero, you know.”

Wade laughed awkwardly and a little bitterly. “Uh, thanks, Spidey, but I don’t really think - “

“Well,” Spidey cut him off with a nonchalant flick of the wrist. “_I _think you are, so take my word for it, ‘Pool. Also…” He hesitated, mouth tugging into a frown before he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, frustration waving off of him and making Wade take a step back in caution. “I’m sorry for being a dick to you last week. It was just a really shitty day and it wasn’t your fault, I know you were trying to help but I overreacted and told you to leave and - “ he took a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” Wade said, quietly, and for once, his boxes were silent, like they knew Wade needed to say things for himself for once. “It’s, uh. Totally cool, baby boy. Yup. I get it, I can be really annoying - “

“But you’re also my friend,” Spidey stopped him, and Wade jumped, elation stealing his breath and his heart threatening to jump out of his chest and do the fucking _ macarena. _ He was his friend. Wade was Spider-man’s _ friend. _ Holy fuck, holy shit, this was the best fucking day in the world, and _ oh my god he was Spider-man’s friend. _

“It’s coolio!” Wade said, and this time, he was telling the truth. He clasped his hands together and spun on his toe, his other foot bent and pointed towards the sky. “Wow! We’re _ friends! _ Does this mean we get to braid each other's hair? Have picnics? Wait, I don’t have hair. Woops. Oh-em-gee I _ have _ to make my special Deadpool pancakes! The secret ingredient? _ Glitter._”

Spidey laughed, lips parted beautifully while he stepped closer and punched Wade lightly in the shoulder, the touch soft and affectionate and without an ounce of Spidey strength. “You wish, ‘Pool.”

{Hey. You know what this means, right?}

Yeah, Wade knew. Of course he knew, because for a moment he closed his eyes, leaning into the small touch of Spidey’s hand, and wow, his heart had never beat so fast. It was stupid, like, stupid as all shit, because again, Wade knew what this all meant and what the outcome was. It was impossible for anything good to come out of this - Spidey had a temper, was an asshole, and found Wade to be an annoyance. But… But.

He was also sweet, selfless, and called Wade a friend. No one had ever called Wade a friend before, not even Weasel, who Wade had known for years and talked about the weirdest shit with. His boxes, though, were agreeing with him, and what an agreement it was:

[We were in semi-denial, you know.]

{There’s no turning back from this. It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up but we can’t stop ourselves.}

“I know,” Wade muttered.

{[Love him.]}

So Wade did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dunno what i'm doing? this is my first spideypool fic lol
> 
> i'll update when i can
> 
> also i run on encouragement and your thoughts, so please leave a comment and kudos! i really want to hear what you think!
> 
> also also while you're reading this i highly recommend going to spotify or youtube and putting on some taylor swift. almost all of her songs work, though i do particularly recommend her earlier very country music as well as shake it off. idk something about her lyrics just sort of vibes with this story so i suggest it if you really wanna get into it lmao (i'm linking my personal playlist for this fic down below)
> 
> [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRUQyQ6Zw97nKcLVIRsYZ7qxBDeAQAAFB)
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://redyarns.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/redyarns_)!


	2. b

Wade woke up with a snort, his mouth dry and gross, and the tv blaring something at him. He squinted blearily, and after a moment, pulled off his mask and flicked it onto the back of the couch, before focusing back on the screen, only to gape. There, on his own fucking television, was him, Deadpool, in a rather shaky and poor-quality photo of him giving the bird to a particularly nasty salamander-mutant thing he remembered he and Spidey had beat up a few weeks ago. 

“What the _ fuck?_” Wade croaked, his voice rougher than usual due to his sleep, and he rubbed a hand down his face, trying to wake himself up and actually comprehend what the hell was happening. 

{Fucking turn the volume up, idiot!} 

“Oh, yeah,” Wade said, digging around between the couch cushions for a minute before finally locating the damn thing and turning up the sound impatiently.

“ - new sights of a red and black costumed vigilante hero,” the lady on the screen said with a serious face and a ridiculous blonde beehive. Wade squinted to see the small print at the bottom that read her name as _ Hannah Boulevard. _“Many of you may have mistaken him for our local web-swinging menace, Spider-man - “ 

“Hey!” Wade cried out indignantly. “No one disses Spidey like that!” 

“ - but this new hero is in fact someone else. Several anonymous witnesses have come forward to claim that this individual calls himself Deadpool, and it’s been confirmed that there have been multiple sightings of him fighting alongside Spider-man. Here, we have a reporter and photographer for the _ New York Times, _Ellen Long, who was the first to have an official article written about Deadpool and his actions. Ellen, what can you tell us about this man?” At this, Hannah shoved her mic forward and practically jutted it against Ellen, which made Wade jump once he realized that it was Harry’s mother from a few nights ago. 

He’d honestly forgotten about the mother-son duo, as he’d been too busy with other things, like very slowly picking up trash around his apartment, stuffing Spidey with so much food that he couldn’t walk, and even cooking actual meals for himself instead of just hitting the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts. It was a whirlwind after the fiasco he called his life, so Wade had been sufficiently distracted from anything else. 

“Well, Hannah,” Ellen said, looking annoyed as she gently pushed away the mic so it was a safe distance from her. “My son and I were walking out last Tuesday night pretty late - my little Harry’s a dancer, you see, and he’d had an extra late practice that day, and since we live so close I thought it’d be okay to walk and not take a cab. Unfortunately, we live in New York, which meant I was grabbed and pulled into the alleyway near Hudson Street and this guy was wielding a knife like a crazy person. As a woman, I was scared, but as a mother, I was terrified. I’d been ready to just try and protect Harry as best as I could until this really tall man who was wearing red and who I admit accidentally confused for Spider-man for a second - “ 

“Maybe I should change the suit?” Wade wondered out loud. 

{Nah.} 

[It feels nice to be red, anyway. Reminds us of Spidey.] 

“You got me there.” 

“ - but I recognized him from Instagram and Twitter. There have been a few pictures going around of him, but I didn’t realize who he was until he punched the knife-guy down and tied him up. Anyway, I asked him for a picture, and he was really sweet about it, and I just had to write something about him. I don’t care _ what _those Tweets say, he’s just as much of a hero as anyone else - he saved my Harry and wasn’t rude at all.” At this, Ellen then flicked the mic away from her with a smug look. 

“Thank you, Ellen,” Hannah said, her expression a little irked as the camera pulled back to her face. “So, in conclusion, we have good evidence that this Deadpool hero is in fact here to stay, considering how he’s been spotted around New York for two months by this point. And even though he’s saved many, the question remains: is he an attention-seeking, arrogant menace like Spider-man, or is he just a regular man who has nothing better to do? I’m Hannah Boulevard, and this has been Channel Ni - “ 

Wade hit the power button on the remote in a panic, his shoulders tense and mouth still gaping.

“Ohhhh fuck,” Wade groaned, and again, there was a heat to his cheeks that he wasn’t used to as he ran his hands down his face in embarrassment. “Oh _ jesus christ on a pogo stick. _I’m, like. A hero. A fucking - I used to kill people, and now I’m, like, just like an Avenger or some shit. Oh shit nipple, does this mean I have to talk to Iron Dick?”

[Stop lying, you’re enjoying this and you know it. Also that was a lot of ‘like’s.]

{Who fucking cares? We’re a _ good guy _now. That’s kind of gross.} 

[Are you ever supportive?] 

{Are _ you?_} 

[Touche.] 

“‘M not a hero, though,” Wade whispered to himself, and goddammit, this was seriously not what he needed at - he squinted at the wonky clock laying on his table - nine thirty in the morning on a Saturday. He ran his hands over his head, scowling when he felt the ridges of his scars and suddenly had the need to make burritos and then make Spidey eat every single one. If he couldn’t take care of himself, he thought, then at least he could take care of the love of his life. 

[Why are you so worried?]

“I’m not worried,” Wade snapped, shucking off his sweatpants and sweater and reaching for his suit, snapping on the leather quickly and hesitating when he began to reach for his katanas. He instead just jammed his holsters with guns and took a moment to stare at his mask as he held it in his hands. 

{Put it on. No one wants to see your fugly face anyway.} 

[Don’t want to scare the little kids, right?] 

Wade frowned and pulled the mask on. “Right.” 

He left the apartment feeling a little down but not sullen, and when he reached the bottom floor and left the building, he was feeling significantly better. He whistled some tune he vaguely associated with Golden Girls and leisurely began his way to the supermarket, making a mental list of the things he’d need while he walked. 

[Tomatoes.]

{Lettuce. Tortillas. And pork, not beef, Spidey doesn’t like beef for some reason. Hell if I know.}

[_Hey. _Pay attention, Wade. Don’t you hear that?]

Wade paused, tilting his head to try and listen for whatever White deemed important enough to interrupt their silent conversation. He strained his ears, and sure enough, there was the faint sounds of a struggle, one where a person was trying to subdue the other but they were putting up a fight. 

His hackles raised when he peered behind a building to see a young woman being pushed up against the wall, her curly blond hair dirty and ragged while tears of frustration stung her eyes. Her mouth was muffled by the hand of the man standing in front of her, and he was reaching for his belt while also pulling up her skirt - 

“That’s not how a man asks out a lady!” Wade said, fake cheer in his voice as he made himself known and started to stride toward the duo with rigid shoulders and tightened fists. “Hey, buddy, mind letting go of this young lady?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” Was the thing the man rasped. “I got ‘er first! Go find another one - “

“No?” Wade thundered, all amusement dropped from his tone as he grabbed the back of the man’s cloak and tugged him back with brute strength, before lifting him up and shoving him against the wall. 

{Let’s fuck him up!}

“Listen here you fucking piece of tacoless-worthy dick,” Wade hissed, getting straight up and personal in the guy’s face while forcing his head to stay still. “You’re lucky I have a certain sexy spider keepin’ me from blowing your brains out, so count yourself lucky this time. The popo’s gonna be here soon and take you up for daycare service, so fucking behave, or else I’ll stop being Mr. Nice-Deadpool-Guy and I’ll shoot you in your micro-dick. _ Capiche?_” 

The guy whimpered, and soon there was the smell of urine in the air. 

Wade dropped him and looked away, gagging while pinching his nose. “Dude! Fuck, that’s gross. Alright, that’s _ so _nasty, jesus - I need a zip tie.” 

Five minutes after very carefully maneuvering himself around the man, Wade was huffing into his burner and asking for a pickup on a “douchebag prick" and they’d better be there quick before Wade did something himself. He closed the phone with a grunt, eyed the man who was slumped on the dirty brick wall, passed out from fear, and only then did he realize that he’d neglected one half of the duo. Wade turned to see the almost-victim still there, her face blotchy and her eyes narrowed at the pathetic heap near Wade’s feet. 

“Hey,” Wade said awkwardly, because he’d never really took care of the civilians, that was more of Spidey’s thing. “You doing okay or - “

“How long until the cops get here?” She breathed, Brooklyn accent strong as she wavered to her feet and hobbled over to slip on a red heel that she’d kicked off during her scuffle. 

Wade scratched his head and said, “maybe about five - “ 

The lady walked over, paused, gave Wade a small pat on the arm, and then proceeded to _ beat the absolute shit out of Douchebag. _

Wade arched his brows as he watched, crossing his arms and feeling mildly impressed when she cursed and spat at Douchebag’s face, kicking him repeatedly in the crotch and even stabbing him a little because of the knife-shoes she called high heels. After a minute, she stopped, breathless and messy and looking totally awesome. She then huffed, tossed a blonde curl over her shoulder, and turned to stare at Wade with piercing blue eyes. “Need somewhere to be?” 

Wade jumped, swearing when he realized that he was supposed to be heading home with groceries by this point. “Fuck, I - oh shit, I was supposed to be makin’ burritos for Spidey, dammit - “

“Yeah?” The woman huffed. She stuck out a hand, and when he shook it, he was kind of scared with how hard her grip was. “Well, I’m coming with you, then. I was supposed to be at work in an hour ago but after _ this _\- “ she kicked behind her without a glance and narrowed her eyes when Douchebag let out a grunt. “I don’t feel like going. Making burritos for Spider-man sounds awesome. My name is Papaya, by the way.” 

Wade stared, wondering if she was joking, except her expression was as serious and straight as ever, and he got the impression that she wasn’t the type of person to make jokes like that. So he wheezed with laughter, cackling hysterically while slapping his knee before brushing away an imaginary tear. “Sweetheart, you don’t know anything about me - “

“You were literally on the news this morning,” she said bluntly. 

He paused. “Aw, fuck. I forgot about that. Also your name sucks.” 

“_Your _name sucks,” she snapped, and he decided that he liked her. 

Half an hour later, Papaya (“Yes that’s my actual name, _ stop laughing you asshole - _ “) was stirring the pork while Wade whistled and sang along to Taylor Swift’s _ The Man _ that he was blasting from his laptop. It was surreal, actually, because the last person Wade had let into his apartment was - well - _ himself, _as no one was ever quite that eager to go home with a mercenary, no matter how heroic he was. He didn’t mind the girl’s presence - in fact, he was totally enjoying it, if only for the company of someone who didn’t even blink at the mess he called home and only started commanding him to hand her the spices they’d picked up at the supermarket. (They’d gotten weird looks.) 

{She could be a spy.}

[Right. A spy. A spy when all of our information can literally be found on google just by searching up Deadpool.]

{I - okay, fair.}

“So these are for Spider-man?” Papaya asked, tipping the pork onto a plate before sniffing it and then shoving a piece into her mouth. She yelped when he slapped her hand, then glared at him while saying, “_ ow, _bitch. I’m not a super-beefy freak like you, you know.” 

“Don’t eat Spidey’s food,” he shot back, but it was teasing and she rolled her eyes before blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “And yes! It’s _ all _ for Spidey, because lemme tell you, Pappy, that boy can down food faster than I can burp out the alphabet backwards, and _ trust me, _ that’s fast. You know he for some reason doesn’t like to eat beef? Dunno why, but what the baby boy wants, the baby boy gets. He also really likes spicy pork which _ duh _ spicy is always the way to go, cause like, it’s just so _ good _ya know and - “ 

“Don’t call me Pappy,” Papaya said, and she once again popped a cube of pork into her mouth, pinching Wade on the wrist when he reached out to try and slap her again. She smirked at his wince before she relaxed and leaned against the counter while watching Wade mash the avocados. “So,” she said nonchalantly. “You and Spider-man. I guess it makes sense - two guys in skin-tight leather and getting sweaty while beating up douchebags? Something has to happen, naturally.” 

Wade froze, boxes going wild and shrieking something about her being a mind reader. For a moment, true fear grasped him. He hadn’t felt it in a long time, but it seemed like whenever Spidey was involved, he was experiencing emotions he hadn’t felt in years. Questions ran through his mind - what if she blurted it out to everyone? How did she find out? Everyone always thought he was joking, so why was she the first one to get it in the literal half hour they’ve known each other? When he spoke, his voice was tight and all tilts of amusement were gone. “Shut up.” 

“Drop the tough guy act,” Papaya said, crossing her arms. “Look. We may be complete opposites, but if there’s one thing that binds us together, it’s the fact that we’re decent people and we hate sick bastards. I’m not going to out you or something, Deadpool. And stop reaching for your gun, I can see you.” 

Wade sighed, slumped his shoulders, and dropped the gun when she arched an eyebrow pointedly. He ran a hand down his mask and said, “how the hell - what the - jesus fucking christ in a taco shell, don’t tell _ anyone, _ got it?” He brandished his avocado-covered fork menacingly but she only snorted and snatched it from his hand to lick at the green goop. “And I am definitely not a nice guy. I kill people, like, _ pew pew _ and _ stabby stab._”

“Trust me, I don’t have any friends to tell it to,” she said simply. “And you also saved me from Dickface. You _ used _to kill people, I already looked you up. Your kill count’s been zero for the past few months. I even saw that dumb beehive-woman on the news this morning - you’re a decent person, maybe a hero.” 

“I - “ 

{What the fuck do we say to that?} 

“What the fuck do I say to that?” Wade repeated, feeling a little helpless. 

Papaya rolled her eyes, set down the now clean fork, and settled her hands on her hips. It was a little disturbing how scared Wade was when she glared at him - it was like the blue of them was piercing right through his suit, past his skin, and deep into his brain with his boxes. “You don’t have to say anything. To him or to me, for that matter. But if you want to talk, at least I’m here - unlike him, I’m here in this disgusting place, listening to you sing _ really _off-key, and I even put in my number into your phone when you weren’t looking.” 

Wade’s jaw dropped. 

She dropped onto a stool, dragged the bowl of beans towards her, and began popping them one at a time into her mouth. “What’s it gonna be, Deadpool?” 

There was silence. 

Then he sighed, rolled his eyes so hard that he felt like they’d pop out of his head, and said, “this place isn’t _ disgusting._” 

Papaya smiled and laughed for the first time since they’ve met. “It’s a total pigsty in here, but okay.” 

Wade shrugged awkwardly and dug out another fork to continue mashing his avocados. “Sooo… are you serious about that? The, uh. The talking. Thing. Cause, like, no one can stand to be around me for so long, not even Spidey.” 

“Well,” she said, looking thoughtful as she ate another bean. “Maybe it’s time someone start.” 

(Whoa. That was surreal. She was the second person to try - she was trying, sitting here eating his food that he purchased, her hair a wild curly mess, her clothes ripped and dirty but like she was completely fine. She didn’t blink when he said he killed people, she didn’t care that he had My Little Pony posters all over his walls, and she even told him he was stupid for buying too much meat instead of being silent in fear like other people. She was awesome. She reminded him of Spidey, but she wasn’t, because she also said that she was a raging lesbian that would kick his dick off if he even tried anything, and damn if that didn’t make him like her more.)

He grinned. “It began two months ago, and it was during this one job I had that made me come back to New York after three whole fuckin’ years…” 

When she left four hours later, arms laden with fresh clothes, a bag of burritos, and a wadload of cash at Wade’s insistence, there was a new contact in his phone like she promised and his heart feeling lighter than ever. He watched from his window as she disappeared down the street, and when he pulled off his mask and tilted his head in thought, he wondered if he had just made a friend. 

[I like her.] 

{Man, she’s fuckin’ _ scary. _} 

[Hey. Look.] 

And Wade did look. He glanced around him, at his apartment, and took notice of all the things that he hadn’t before, like Papaya’s rough words and dirty blonde hair were suddenly the glasses to his blurry vision. He could see boxes of half-eaten pizzas piling up on each other, the kitchen totally destroyed from their burrito-making frenzy, some of the walls and even parts of the ceiling splattered with old blood. He crossed his arms, stared some more, and then picked up the dusty broom he had bought ages ago but thought he’d never use.

{[We should clean up in here.]}

So he did. Little by little, he swept and mopped and rubbed, dropping his costume slowly and pulling on his civvies and singing along to more Taylor Swift songs. It was weird how two people had influenced him so much, he thought to himself, because he was cleaning for the first time in years and it felt so _ so _good. And it was true that he was scared, he had never been more scared in his life, because what if Wade cleaned and then Spidey told him to leave and it all fell apart - but Papaya had patted his arm, offered a bean, and said, “then clean for yourself, and clean for the possibilities. He adores you, and I’ve only seen you two on tv.” 

So he cleaned, he cleaned, and when he met up Spidey later and the hero laughed and asked why Wade was so happy, the almost-hero could only shrug and grin. 

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

Things, as typical of Wade’s shitty and fucked up life, went downhill from there. Like. _ Very _downhill. The months had flown by quickly, and before he knew it, it was the sixth-month anniversary of Wade promising not to kill people and also the anniversary of his and Spidey’s team up. The day started out great at first - he’d managed to get ready without his mask on, even looking at himself in the mirror and only scowling once. The breakfast pancakes he made were excellent, and the rest of the day had been spent catching small fry like muggers or jewelry thieves before wandering over to Papaya’s tiny apartment so they could argue over which Harry Potter book was best. 

But then the shittiness began when Papaya had been in trying to dig out her old copy of _ Prisoner of Azkaban _and Wade, sitting on her bed and making airplane noises with the tiny LEGO figure of Dumbledore, suddenly dropped the figurine and said, “Papaya. Papps. Pappy. Pap-Pap. Fruit of Love - “

“What the fuck do you want?” She snapped, poking her head out of her closet and dodging the thrown LEGO head at her before she glared at him. “And take off your stupid boots! No shoes on my bed, dumbass, how many times do I have to tell you?” 

Wade obligingly kicked off his boots to reveal the cute My Little Pony socks he had put on that morning. He wiggled his toes, delighted to see Pinkie Pie dance because of the movement. “You’re a girl, right?” 

“Gee, thanks,” she replied dryly. 

“And you’re also a bombass lesbian.” 

“Through and through.” 

“So you must be smart,” he concluded, falling back on the bed and staring up at Papaya’s unblemished white ceiling. “Like, a complete smartass, or at least smarter than most people.” 

“You make a valid point,” she said, now sounding amused as she emerged from her closet with a ratty book in her hands before plopping beside Wade and telling him to move so she’d have room. He obeyed and she laid her head on his stomach, the bed too small for the both of them to lie down side by side. She dug out something under her back and pulled out two bottles of nail-polish, both of them only half full. “Can I paint your nails? Also, what’s with the random confirmation of both my gender and sexuality, you weirdo?” 

“Okay,” Wade chirped, and he only flinched once when she pulled off his gloves to reveal his scarred hands, but then she slapped his thigh and sent him a look that said _ stop-freaking-out-you-know-I-don’t-care _ and that was that. He sat up to watch her as she carefully started layering on the colors, alternating the blazing red and bright blue that he almost always wanted because he_llo, _they were Spidey’s colors!

“And I was asking cause…” Wade hesitated, and it was frustrating because he knew what he wanted to say but it was like the words were stuck in his throat like one too-big piece of chimichanga. His boxes, who were usually quiet and almost nice in Papaya’s presence, were yapping louder than dogs. 

[This is a stupid idea.]

{You really think this’ll work? Huh? Who’s ever gonna wanna be stuck with your ugly-ass face, anyway? Fucking give it up.}

[It’ll never work out. Stop while you can.]

“Shut up,” Wade hissed lowly at them, and he shook his head before blinking and realizing that Papaya was done with one hand already, and she was sitting patiently for him to come back, starting on his other thumb and painting it a burning red. He sighed, mentally kicked his boxes’ asses, and said, “so you know Spidey?” 

“You mention his ass and name every conversation we have,” Papaya deadpanned, moving on to his pointer finger and coating it slowly with some blue. “Yes, I’ve heard of him. What about?” 

“I was thinking,” he squirmed, hissing when she pinched his thigh and told him to stop moving or else she’d mess up. He relented and stood still while she moved on to his middle finger, and just as she was starting to coat his ring finger with that lovely blue, he blurted out, “I wanna ask him out.” 

She jumped, caused the brush to spasm onto his skin, and she cursed a blue streak (hehe). “_Oh, _ son of a - goddammit, Wade! What the actual - you can’t just drop a bomb on someone like that, especially when you _ know _this stuff doesn’t come out easily!” With that, she grabbed some remover and began rubbing at his skin, careful of the scars but also muttering under her breath about idiots and something about men and being stupid. 

He would’ve grinned if he wasn’t so anxious, so instead he sat there, watching as this woman half his size glared at him and made him want to shrink down to a tiny inch. Seriously, she was scary as hell; he imagined that while she wasn’t exactly a hero, she still had some secret superpower that would make even the toughest Avenger bow down. He shuddered at the thought of her ever meeting Black Widow - blood would surely be spilled. 

“Sorry,” he offered, and she sighed, quickly finishing his pinkie and then going back to his right hand for the second coat. 

“It’s fine. I was just surprised - sorry if I seemed like a dick. I can practically hear your boxes, so tell them to shove it before I wrangle them into a shoe box,” she snipped sharply, and sure enough, the boxes (who had been slowly but steadily growing louder) quieted down enough for him to pull on a small grin and half-shrug his shoulders. She rolled her eyes but patted his knee fondly. “Now, what was that about asking your beloved _ Spidey-poo _out?” 

“I’ve just been thinkin’ - “

“A surprise,” she teased, and he had to laugh. 

“And you always told me to, you know, go for it and stuff,” he said, feeling a little uncomfortable. It was true that Papaya was a good friend, maybe even a best friend, but it was just awkward in general for him to be genuine. After she called him out on his bullshit a million times he’d stopped being such a happy-ass Deadpool all the time around her to cover up his sappiness/sadness, but it was still a little irritant for him to spill his beans and guts so easily. “I dunno. It’s stupid. Don’t listen to me, I’m bein’ stupid, let’s just watch My Little Pony - “

“Wade,” she chided in her no-nonsense voice. Her gaze, as sharp and blue as ever, was pinning him and refusing to let him crawl away as she said, “you aren’t being stupid. I’m just surprised - I thought you didn’t want him finding out.” 

She was right. Wade was adamant about that - Spidey didn’t deserve to be bagged with someone like Wade, who had _ so _many issues that he didn’t even know where to start. Wade was a difficult person in general to be around, despite the fact Papaya insisting that Wade was just as annoying as any other person. Of course Wade didn’t want Spidey to find out, but at the same time, why not? It was stupid, more stupid than usual of Wade, anyway, but he still had that burning urge to just drop everything and straight up tell Spidey that he was the love of Wade’s life. 

And no matter what the boxes said, Wade _ knew _they were just as smitten as him, so it wasn’t like they could actually stop him. (Probably.) 

“I don’t,” he mumbled. “But I do? I don’t even fuckin’ know anymore, babe, it’s a bigger mess than usual up in here,” he said, knocking his knuckles against his skull. 

After a moment of silence, she finally spoke. “Well,” she said slowly, stretching the word out like she was rolling it around in her mouth for her first ever taste. She carefully applied the shiny, clear top coat on his nails, and despite the tight grip she had on his hands, her voice was soft, the type of soft she only let show when she knew how messed up Wade was feeling or whenever he was having a particularly bad day. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Wade. You’ve been mooning over this guy for like, months by this point. You really love him, don’t you?” 

Wade cleared his throat, his boxes for once settled, and when she finished with his pinkie, he raised up his hands and held them up against the dim light of her room. He grinned when he saw the array of blue and red, and maybe it was the sappiness he tended to feel more and more these days, or the perfect polish that made his ugly hands seem prettier, or maybe it was the fact that Papaya was gently patting his knee with a soft smile on her face, but the anxiety in his stomach was loosening its grip and he wasn’t afraid to say, “I totally, awesomely, literally do.” 

She laughed, jabbed him in the stomach, and called him a dork. 

A few hours later, he was ready to leave, except he wasn’t because he was clinging to Papaya’s front doorframe and whining loudly while she tried to pull him away. 

“Wade - for fuck’s sake - I - _ move your ass!_” Papaya, who was five foot five (and that was generous) on the days she wore her ridiculously high red stilettos, only ate ramen and cookies when Wade wasn’t there to force her to eat properly, and who only exercised when she walked back and forth from work, couldn’t even budge him a fraction of an inch. She stopped, her face red and her eyes icy while she placed her hands on her hips. “Wade Fucking Wilson, get the fuck off of my doorframe before I call the goddamn Avengers!” 

“You don’t even have their number,” he said petulantly, only grasping the frame even tighter. “This is a horrible idea! A terrible idea! Like, shit-in-my-mouth bad idea! Why the fuck am I doing this? Why the fuck did I let you _ talk _me into doing this? Goddammit, Pappy, this is all your fault!” 

“_You _were the one who wanted to ask him out!” She shrieked. 

Oh. 

“Oh,” he said out loud, and he slumped, letting his arms go and collapsing onto the petite woman, trying not to grin when she spluttered furiously under his weight. “Right, I forgot.” 

“Just go,” she grumbled, shoving him out the door and grinning when he whined louder and tried to hold onto her shoulders. “Let go of me, you crazy bitch! It’ll be _ fine, _Wade. Stop being such a worry wart, it’s grating on my nerves.” 

“You promise?” He asked anxiously. 

She sighed, reached up on her tip-toes, and pinched his cheek through his mask. “You silly man. I can’t promise anything, but I can at least say that even if it doesn’t work out, I’ll be right here with three tubs of rocky road and a season’s rerun of Golden Girls. Text me later tonight, okay? You know, _ assuming _you and Spider-man aren’t going at it like rabbits,” she finished with a roll of her eyes. 

Wade laughed loudly, pinched her cheek back, and left with a promise of a thorough detailing and possible pictures after the deed was done.

{Thank god for that woman.} 

[Yeah - she had valid points. Maybe this _ can _ work out?]

{Maybe. Who fuckin’ knows - can’t knock it til we tried it.} 

So there he was a few hours later, frequently taking out his phone and checking the time and whining low in his throat when he realized it still wasn’t midnight like their usual meetup time. He impatiently shuffled on the ledge he sat on, worrying that the tacos he’d packed would get cold, or that they’d fall off and splatter onto the ground, oh fuck did he even pack the tacos? After a frantic check, he realized that indeed they were sitting right beside him, and that was also the fifth time in the last half hour he’d done it. 

He waited. He waited and waited and waited, and with every minute that passed beyond midnight, he could feel the excitement die down and instead be replaced with cold hard anxiety. 

“He’s late,” Wade finally whispered to himself. 

[What time is it?] 

Wade checked. _ 1:07 AM _blinked up at him, and he didn’t know whether he should worry, laugh, or scream. 

Spidey was never late, he told himself. Of all the times they met up on rooftops during questionable times during the night, Spidey was never late, sometimes even there before Wade was. It was one of the many things Wade loved him so much - he _ knew _how busy Spidey was all the time. It was one of their more frequent topics when talking, about how Spidey’s job was shitty and his boss even shittier, how Spidey was often so wrapped up in his own things that he forgot to eat or sleep or anything. But despite all that, he always came to Wade, and the only thing going through Wade’s mind at that moment was that something had happened to Spidey and Wade needed to find him or he could die and and and - 

“Deadpool.” 

Wade beamed, relief shooting through him and dampening the boxes and their loud voices. So maybe it was just this one day he was late! Maybe Spidey had gotten caught up in his civilian stuff, and hey, Wade had been late sometimes too whenever he overslept or spent too much time with Papaya, so he had definitely been overreacting to it all, right? Except when Wade turned around to greet Spidey with a cheerful hello and a bag of lukewarm tacos, the grin underneath his mask slipped off. 

Spider-man was tense - one of the benefits of wearing skin-tight spandex (other than excellent shots of Spidey’s amazing ass, up close and personal) was that Wade could observe everything. As someone who (once) worked in a job so heavily based on indications and subtlety, it meant Wade could understand the littlest of human indications. And going by the tightness of Spidey’s shoulders, his clenched fists, and his deep breathing? He was mad. No, he wasn’t mad - he was _ fucking pissed. _

Wade winced and held up placating hands. “Uh - “ 

“_Deadpool,_” Spidey said again in that tight, high-pitched voice, and it was only then that Wade realized that was the third time in the whole six months they’ve known each other of Spidey calling him by his full name. It was always ‘Pool or Red or _ something, _never Deadpool. Never Deadpool. Fear gripped Wade’s heart and throat. 

“How - I - fucking - “ Spidey paced back and forth, gripping his head and running his hands up and down on his face. “You - get out.” 

“Huh?” Wade said dumbly. 

“Get out.” 

“Out of… what?” Wade repeated, hesitating and his eyes growing wider when Spidey made a noise of disgust. 

“Out of here! Out of this place! NEW YORK!” The last part was bellowed, and Wade’s boxes were frighteningly silent as he stumbled back, like Spidey’s furious words were a punch instead of just that, words. _ I’ve never seen him like this, _ Wade thought, because he’d witnessed Spidey mad, sure. It came with the whole hero business - sometimes, people were just lost no matter how much effort was put in, so Wade had been there to see the times Spidey lashed out or broke or whatever in between. But never like this; never like he hated Wade, never like he loathed him, never enough to the point he was shouting and screaming and looking at him like he was scum. 

“You promised me, Deadpool!” Spidey shouted, his arms flailing and his voice high with anger and frustration. “You promised - no killing, you said - you _ said _no KILLING!” 

There was silence, only filled with both of their harsh breathing, and Wade tightened his hand on the bag of tacos, the paper bag crinkling too loudly in the quiet. The night was beautiful, but it was ruined by the tension running between them, and Wade wanted - all he wanted to - tonight was supposed to be - 

“Well?” Spidey cried out, and there was a sort of anguish in his voice that jolted Wade, making him shiver like it was cold out when in reality it couldn’t be below seventy-five. “Say something, stop fucking - stop just _ standing _there!” 

Wade didn’t know. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what was going on, how to fix this whole _ mess _when he didn’t even know why it was happening. But there were a few things he was sure of: that his heart was racing, his breath fast, like he just ran a marathon without stopping. That the tacos in the bag he was holding were completely cold now, gross and tasteless and soggy after he spent so long making them and loving them. That the wet blotches on Spidey’s mask could only be from his tears, heavy and sopping and what Wade had mistaken as shivering was instead the shudders Spidey couldn’t control as he tried to stop his crying. That Wade’s heart was breaking, piece by piece, shattering into little pieces and that this was where everything had truly hit rock bottom. That Wade still loved Spider-man more than anything. 

So he let out a breath, dropped the bag of cold tacos, and took a step onto the ledge. Spidey followed his every move, like he was hyper-fixating on him, and Wade had wanted that for so long, but not like this. Not when it felt like the bond they’d forged based on mexican food and long rooftop talks and being heroes together was breaking too fast for Wade to try and grab the pieces. 

And Wade smiled, painful and toothy and refusing to move up his mask by even an inch. “I love you.” 

Spidey laughed, mocking and cruel and pained. “You don’t know _ anything _about love. You’re - you’re a killer.” 

Wade let out a harsh breath, threw up a peace sign, and jumped off. 

There were so many things going through his mind that he couldn’t possibly focus on one thing. The streets and orange glow of the lamps were a blur, but he blinked and he was in his apartment again, slamming the door behind him and locking it. The boxes were too loud now - too loud, screaming their imaginary heads off, and when something in his pocket vibrated, he could only take his phone out with no expectations and saw that he had two new messages from Papaya. He crushed the phone in his hand and chucked the hunk of broken metal and glass at the newly-scrubbed walls, breathing heavily and feeling like he and the broken phone were the same. 

{FUCK! _ FUCK!_} 

Wade screamed, grabbed his guns, and began shooting everywhere. Bullets flew into all corners of his apartments, and when he ran out, he angrily threw the guns aside and hey, anything he couldn’t do with his pistols, he always resolved to his fists. He punched and kicked and broke, shattering his plates and ripping his towels and doing anything, _ anything _to quiet the screaming voices in his head and the pounding of his heart. By the end of it, he couldn’t recognize his apartment - after months of cleaning, after so long spending his time trying to build something he could call home, it looked just like any other apartment he had owned. Trashed, disgusting, like it was unlived in. 

“I don’t care,” Wade cried out, feeling like he was about to shoot his own brains out. “I don’t, I don’t, I FUCKING _ DON’T _\- “ and he really didn’t, he swear he didn’t, but he was crying and he was ripping his mask off and breathing harshly through his fingers, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen in his lungs no matter how many times he took in a sharp, panting breath. 

{We need to kill someone. Kill them, gut them, skewer them, blast out their brains, anything, everything - } 

[Please. _ Please._] 

So Wade stumbled over to his laptop, which laid half-open on the ground beside a shattered tea cup. He opened it, and the screen was cracked, but he couldn’t care. He didn’t. And for the first time in _ months, _ he took a job. He didn’t even know who it was from or for how much it was worth - the deal was that he was supposed to go outside of New York, stab a few bad guys, and get paid. And in his mind, the idea of killing someone, to feel their dying breaths, felt so _ good. _

At least, it should have been. 

He left New York the next morning before the sun even rose. 

He arrived at the lab where the baddies were hiding at six thirty-two. 

He was at the top floor by six forty-five. 

And by six fifty-seven, his gun, reloaded and chock-full of bullets, his finger on the trigger and Mr. What’s-his-face shivering and bloody and sobbing at his feet. His clothes were tattered and ripped from his scuffle with Wade, and he was a fucking sick, nasty bastard. He’d been messing with shit he shouldn’t have, stuff that meant Wade’s client’s son had disappeared directly at the hands of the shit stain that was begging for his pathetic life. Wade absolutely hated it when children were messed with, and he just had to pull a little bit, just the smallest amount of pressure - 

So why couldn’t he do it? Why the fuck couldn’t Wade pull the trigger? 

“Fuck!” Wade screamed, and he turned away, gun still pointed but hand now looser. He took in deep, ragged breaths, and he raised his other hand to his face, only to pause. He stared - his glove had been lost somewhere in the fight, the leather having been burned off by the baddie’s stupid laser thing, and Wade’s hand was bare. He looked at his nails, somehow still unblemished from the laser, the colors of bright red and deep blue shining dully in the dim lighting of the broken lights in the ceiling. He could picture Papaya’s face, always serious but also cracking jokes, and when he looked even more, he could imagine Spidey standing there beside him. 

_ “You’re better than this,” _ Spidey said, laying a hand gently on Wade’s bicep. 

“You called me a killer,” Wade choked out. 

_ “But you’re not,” _ Spidey said, and he stepped closer, his hand creeping up and touching Wade’s cheek softly. He leaned into it desperately, wishing this was all real. Spidey smiled under his mask, ran his thumb under Wade’s eye, and said, _ “you’re a hero.” _

“I’m a hero,” Wade whispered, and when he opened his eyes, Spidey was gone and the bad guy was looking at him fearfully. Wade gritted his teeth, said, “fucking _ hell,_” and shoved his gun back into his holster. He instead took out a zip tie and began bounding the guy, muttering under his breath and cursing the fuck out of anything and everything. 

“You’re crazy,” the guy sobbed. 

“I’m a lot more than that, trust me,” Wade grunted, and maybe it was the fact that he was on an emotional rollercoaster that made him feel like losing his chimichangas, but suddenly the guy’s leg was kicking out and Wade couldn’t dodge it in time. He let out a noise of brief pain, and he swiped, trying to at least land in a punch because what the actual _ fuck _man, that kind of hurt, except he grabbed at the baddie’s wrist instead and he was yanking off a rusty, nearly busted watch off. 

Wade didn’t give it a second glance, about to throw it away and give this dude a piece of his mind, except the guy was screaming and _ yeesh _why was he even yelling, Wade hadn’t done anything yet - at least until he realized something was pulsing in his hand, reminiscent of a heartbeat, and for a second Wade was a little alarmed because as far as he knew he didn’t rip out the bad guy’s heart. Then he looked down, saw the watch, at the white shine it was emanating, and said, “what the - “ 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what happened next. Let’s just say there was a lot of wind, too much noise for him to comprehend, and a light so bright that he had to squeeze his eyes shut unless he wanted his eyeballs to melt out of his face, which, _ ugh. _It was messy, trust him. 

“ - fuck?” Wade finished, blinking spots out of his eyes when the whole acid trip was over. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, trying to help the headache, only to realize several things. One - the air and the atmosphere was different. It wasn’t necessarily wrong, but there was a certain headiness around him, a sweet smell that vaguely reminded him of vanilla pudding. Two - he was definitely _ not _at that trashed up lab. In fact, when he looked around, he was immediately put on edge. 

“What the _ fuck,_” he hissed, because this was his apartment, but not at the same time. The area was clean, which was definitely not how he left it when he went for the job. The area was tidy, if not a little lived-in, the pile of dirty clothes on the couch and unwashed dishes in the sink giving the place that whole _ someone-lives-here _vibe. His shoulders were practically bunched up with the tension running through him - who the fuck was in his apartment, and who the fuck wanted to clean up the shitshow he had made it? 

[Something’s wrong.]

{Yeah, no fucking shit, what the hell happened?}

[_No, _you idiot. This. This place. Where are we?]

“Where am I?” Wade muttered. 

It was all too off, all too different. Forget the cleanliness, when he moved around, trying to figure it all out, there were differences that were like alarm bells banging on his brain. The couch wasn’t the regular orange leather he had, instead, it was a softer, squishier brown, and when he pushed down on it, it didn’t make that squeaky sound like it always did. When he looked in the fridge, it was stocked with fruits and veggies, and worst of all, carrots. He grimaced at the orange monstrosities and closed the fridge door. 

But the most obvious change? 

He approached the mantle below the tv, and he paused, caught off guard. His hand reached out to touch a dusty picture frame - he remembered buying it vividly. He had gotten it before his Deadpool days, back when he was still with Vanessa and back when everything had been alright and good and sappy. The frame was made of some sort of metal, rustic looking with its dull golden color and twisted to look like vines climbing on top of each other. The picture inside had been one of him and Vanessa at a park - it was a picture they didn’t mean to take, spontaneous and a little shaky, but it had been of them being happy and glowing. Wade had treasured that picture, at least until he lost the frame in all the chaos. 

But it was there right in front of him, and the picture was. It was _ weird. _ It was of him, but not pretty-him, the one before Weapon X and the chaos and the shit stain he called his life. His mask was off, scars open for everyone to see, and his green (green, Wade had _ blue _eyes, what the hell) eyes crinkled at the edges with his grin while a young man kissed his cheek. The guy who Wade had thrown an arm over was, for a lack of word, beautiful - his blond hair was wild and all over the place, but his brown eyes were half-moons in his laughter and he had a blush on his face as he kissed Wade. 

“What the hell?” Wade said softly, and he ran his thumb over the dusty glass. It left a clean streak behind, enough that he could look more closely and realize how - how _ happy _he looked. There was true joy sparking in this not-Wade’s eyes, and something deep ached in Wade’s chest, so painful and sharp that it shut the boxes up completely. 

{That could have been us.}

[That could have been us.]

“That could have been us,” Wade muttered. 

He stood there, basking in self-pity and half-baked regret, only to stop when he heard something. He dropped the frame onto the carpet, whirled around, cocking his gun and his muscles all tense, ready to jump at a moment’s notice. 

The gun nearly slipped from his grip in his shock, because there climbing through the window was the one and only Spider-man, except not. His costume wasn’t the iconic blue and red that Wade had grown to love and also liked to paint on his nails - instead, it was like black had been dumped over Spidey’s costume, bleeding onto the original two colors and blending together in a strange mix of black, red and blue. Wade tensed; whoever this was, and he _ really _wasn’t sure, was acting too much like Spidey but the opposite at the same time. 

“Wade?” Spidey whispered, and the ex-mercenary wasn’t prepared for it. For so long he’d imagined Spidey saying his name, his actual name, instead of some form of Deadpool or Red. Maybe he wasn’t Spidey, Wade thought to himself as the imposter crawled completely through the window and landed on the carpet silently, but he sure sounded like him. It was enough to have shivers run down Wade’s back, and the grip on his gun loosened even more. 

“Wade,” Spidey repeated, and he said it this time like a revelation, and before Wade could react, he was reaching up and yanking off his mask to reveal the same blond hair and brown eyes Wade had seen in the metal picture frame. This time, however, there was no blush or happiness glittering in the deep cocoa tresses of his irises - tears collected at the corners of his eyes, dropping and sparkling like crystalline droplets, and fuck, _ fuck, _he was beautiful, even like this. 

“It’s you,” Spidey whispered, and he was inching closer, awe coloring his voice while something like grief glinted in his gaze. He took in a shuddering breath, tracing Wade’s form hungrily like he was a starved dog and Wade was a particularly delicious piece of kibble. “It’s _ you._” 

“Uh - “ 

Spidey surged forward without warning, a blur of red, black and blue, and spandex-covered hands were creeping under Wade’s mask and pulling it off before he could stop him. Smooth lips covered Wade’s own, and he flailed, unable to understand what was happening - all he could comprehend was that not-Spidey’s lips tasted like tears and vanilla chapstick, that even if he wasn’t Spidey he _ smelled _like Spidey, and oh god he sounded like him and was kissing Wade like there wasn’t anything else he’d rather be doing - 

And Wade was still so hurt, reeling from the last time he had met Spider-man on that rooftop, when there was nothing but hurtful words and stabbing wounds thrown at each other, and his boxes were going _ crazy _ \- his hands curled around Spidey’s slim hips, and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he _ shouldn’t, _ but he was kissing back and _ oh _nothing had ever felt so good. 

The kiss was hungry and sloppy and it was filled with emotions that Wade could only label as grief and regret. 

“You’re not my Spidey,” Wade breathed into his mouth, closing his eyes when he felt the other’s warm tears tickling his eyelashes.

“I know,” Spidey whispered, and he was pressing kisses to Wade’s neck, and slowly, oh so slowly, coaxing him to follow him to the left room that Wade knew was a bedroom. “My name - my name is Peter.” 

“Peter,” Wade repeated, and the name was bittersweet on his tongue, like a sweet he never had but suddenly found delicious. He faltered at the doorway of the room, but Peter whispered his name like a prayer, and Wade was being pulled into the darkness and tumbling onto a messy bed and pillows. 

“Peter,” Wade said when Peter rolled on top of him and pulled off the tops of their suits. “Baby-bo - “ they both froze, an unspoken rule between them, and at once, Wade knew that _ that _ name couldn’t be used, not when it held thousands of pounds for them and held too much for them to handle. So instead, he pressed a kiss to Peter’s throat, nipped the skin, and said, “darling-boy. Darling. _ Peter._” 

“Wade,” Peter sobbed, and for the rest of the night, while they said many other things, it was like those names were the only thing anchoring them down to earth instead of floating off into the dreamy nightmare they had both stumbled into. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was hell to write. i tried writing it all in one day (today) and dear god, i have never been in so much pain
> 
> big shout out to my awesome beta/number one fan, bella dear <3
> 
> the plot's finally starting, sorry for the slow start! i just wanted to establish a lot of things first
> 
> (also do you like papaya? i like papaya. the character, i mean. papaya fruit sucks) 
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://redyarns.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/redyarns_)!


	3. c

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you've read the tags because there is implied sexual content here and also the start of a not so great relationship

Wade was startled awake when he felt hands that were calloused but softer and smaller than his own touching his face, tracing the scars and his eyes and eventually a pair of impossibly gentle lips pressing kisses to his skin, the touch so devoting that Wade had to take a moment and keep his eyes closed. 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Wade said, his voice raspy with overuse and sleep while refusing to open his eyes. Guilt squeezed his heart at the memories of the night before. “Jesus christ on a pogo stick - oh I’m such a fucked up person, that was _ so _wrong, oh god what would Spidey say - “

Then Wade was being kissed, except this time there was something different about it - last night, it had all been about lust and relief and just desperation, and in all honestly their lips had gotten so swollen so quick that they had to part for several minutes before they could kiss again. It was the kind of brutal making-out that one would think only happened between hormonal teenagers, but apparently not. This kiss, however, was so much more yielding, soft in its touch and feeling like a whisper rather than a claim. 

Wade couldn't help kissing back, because who wouldn’t? There was something breathtaking about this world’s Spider-man, regardless of how different he already was from Wade’s Spidey. (Not that he had even been _ Wade’s _to begin with, but you know. Details.) It was relieving, almost, because if he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Peter’s skin, he could pretend it was Spidey instead who was doing this, not some doppelganger from another place. 

Peter slowly ran his arms up to wrap around Wade’s neck, anchoring him loosely and then pulling back slowly, slowly enough that Wade reluctantly opened his eyes to see Peter’s brown ones that traced his face with a sort of revered awe Wade had never received before. It was almost uncomfortable, _ almost _, because Wade’s scars on his neck and back were being caressed like they were the most delicate things in the world, not like the brutal reminders of his shitty past he saw them as. Wade hummed, feeling guilty that he was enjoying himself so much, and he gave into his urges and tentatively wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist to bring him closer. 

{Stop getting distracted, fuckface. Who the hell is he? Where the fuck are we?} 

[Oh, he’s so beautiful…] 

_ He really is, _ Wade thought wistfully, but Yellow was right. He needed to know exactly what was going on - he’d already fucked up by sleeping with the (gorgeous) man beside him, but he should at least try to figure this all out. 

“Last night,” Wade started, only to stop and swallow hard when Peter began brushing his lips against Wade’s neck. He gathered some sort of self-control and instead pushed the other man back gently, feeling guilty at his small, confused noise. “You said you knew you weren’t my Spidey. I - where the hell am I? How the fuck do I get myself into these messes?” 

“Oh,” Peter said, and the gleaming interest in his brown eyes faded away. He bit his lip, and Wade couldn’t help but stare, because he could remember the absolute filthy things those lips did, and oh _ damn fuck _he needed a cold shower, now. Jesus christ, could his dick please calm down for, like, one second? Peter let out a breath and he broke eye contact, instead tracing absent-minded shapes on Wade’s bare chest. “Your eyes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your eyes,” Peter repeated, and when he looked up, there were small tears clinging to his eyelashes, and Wade couldn’t help but think that the tears looked like diamonds, and in the soft light of the morning, the blond looked - well - angelic. It was enough to have Wade’s throat choking on guilt and affection.

  
  
{What about Spidey?} 

[What about Spidey?] 

“My Wade had green eyes,” Peter whispered, and finally, he looked at Wade’s face again, and maybe he saw the awe etched onto Wade’s expression, because there was a wobbly smile on his lips as he raised a hand and traced the outside edges of Wade’s eyes. His eyelids fluttered in response. “He - he always complained about them, you know. Said they were too pretty for a face like his. But you… you have blue eyes, like the ocean.” 

Wade couldn’t speak - from what, he didn’t know. Grief? Regret? Guilt? Endearment? Instead, all he could think about was the past tense of Peter’s words, and realization hit him like a fucking truck. “Had. You said _ had. _He’s - “ 

“Gone,” Peter mumbled, and oh fuck, the tears were falling, and Wade was panicking. He was never good with crying people, especially when that person was someone so beautiful as Peter. 

Wade hushed him, hands reaching up and trying to wipe away the tears with his thumbs and gulping when Peter raised his own hands to cover his - the size difference between them was a little ridiculous, but seeing that smooth, bare skin against Wade’s own scarred and mutilated one soothed something inside him that burned anytime he thought of his Spidey. “Shh, shh, sweetheart, it’s okay - don’t cry, darling-boy, I’m way too weak-hearted for a pretty boy like you to do this to me, mhm, yup, I’m dyin’, can’t handle it, so stop cryin’, hunny bun, if not for you then me - “ 

Peter laughed wetly and turned his head to press a tender kiss to Wade’s fingers. “God, shut up, you sap.” 

Wade laughed, because it felt like it was the only thing he could do without freaking out. 

“And how’d you know?” 

Wade hummed in question, too distracted by the freckles dotting Peter’s nose and cheeks. He leaned down to kiss them, unable to help himself, smiling helplessly when the bond’s breath hitched and clutched at him tighter. “Know what, darling?” 

“That I wasn’t him. Your Spidey.” 

Wade recoiled as if struck, and there was a look of terror on Peter’s face as he tried to pull Wade back closer, but the ex-mercenary was being assaulted by memories of what happened, about what propelled him to take that stupid job in the first place. He almost felt like something was stabbing him, except it hurt a lot more than an actual knife would, because Spidey had truly seemed repulsed by him at the moment. 

“What happened?” Peter whispered, and slowly, he managed to coax Wade back into his arms, cradling him and butterfly-kissing his cheeks. “Tell me, Wade. It’s okay. You know it’s okay - I love you.” 

“No you don’t,” Wade muttered, grabbing onto Peter like his lifeline and clinging desperately. They both knew that Peter’s words weren’t a lie, but they weren’t the truth, either - there was love, there definitely was, but Wade knew that whenever Peter looked at him, all he could see was _ his _ Wade, the one with green eyes, not blue. But it wasn’t like Wade could say anything, because every time they touched and kissed and sighed in lust, all he could think was, _ is Spidey like this? _Hell, he didn’t even know if Peter was what his Spidey looked like under the mask; the whole new world thing was a whole headache. And it was awful of them, really, because essentially they were using each other, but Peter was humming in comfort and touching his skin and damn, did they both need this. 

“We had a fight,” Wade finally said.

{_That’s _an understatement.}

[It was more like a bomb had gone off.] 

He cleared his throat roughly and continued. “Plus my Spidey doesn’t - he doesn’t look like you. I mean, I dunno what he looks like under the mask, it ain’t like he was goin’ around showcasin’ his face, you know, but your costumes are different. Don’t get me wrong, your ass looks just as great in that spandex, but he isn’t… black. It’s just plain ol’ red and blue.” 

“The black is for you,” Peter said gently. He closed his eyes and he let out a frustrated breath, his grip tightening just that much more on Wade’s shoulders. “I - fuck, this is a headache. I mean my Wade.” 

“I can be your Wade,” and oh fuck, that was definitely not what he’d meant to say. For once, for _ once, _his boxes were silent, stunned into silence by what he said, and he wasn’t any better. There were so many things wrong with that statement - hell, this whole situation was fucked up as it was. Wade didn’t know everything, still; it was obvious this was some parallel universe shit, something he hadn’t tangled with in a while, and it was too disorienting to really take in everything. In all his years as a mercenary, not knowing all the deets before diving head into something was literally one of the worst things you could do. 

But the worst part? 

They wanted it. Wade could feel how they wanted it, wanted it so, _ so bad - _ he could feel it in the soft puffs of Peter’s breaths, the way his pupils were dilating with his lust, blowing wide and consuming the soft brown of his irises. He was inching closer, sliding their skin against each other, and when he fluttered his eyes closed for a soft moan at the tentative touch of Wade’s hand on his hip, Wade was cursing at an equally quiet volume and feeling his body heat up. Wade didn’t know a lot of things about being mentally sound (seriously, he _ really _ didn’t know a lot), but this, whatever _ this _ was, it was anything from okay. The ache that was pulling them together was from a mutual sympathy and desperation from a lack of their loved one, and goddammit, Wade wanted Spidey to be there, he wanted Spidey to be the one he was holding, but Peter’s body was both hard and soft and he was moaning and Wade _ ached - _

So they fell and fell and fell. 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

“Thanks,” Wade rasped, voice hoarse and feeling more awkward than one would after a hot-’n-heavy night with a complete stranger as he cradled the cup of fresh coffee Peter had just given him. Peter slid onto the seat across from him, his pale thighs free for the world to see, the t-shirt he was wearing doing nothing to hide the harsh bite marks Wade had sucked onto the soft flesh while Peter had cried for relief. It made Wade feel both aroused and a little embarrassed. He knew that he hadn’t hurt Peter, not when the man had practically begged for it, but still. He was always rough and he hated to see that it might hinder the other man. 

“No problem,” Peter said, smiling and curling his hands around his own cup, looking like a dream in the mid-noon light of the sun. 

Wade cleared his throat. “You don’t have work, darling-boy?” 

“No,” Peter hummed, eyes closing in satisfaction as he took a sip. “I don’t have work on Saturdays, thank god. Tony is nice and all but - “ 

He stopped when Wade suddenly inhaled his coffee the wrong way and he was laughing and choking at the same time, wincing when the skin of his throat burned at the boiling liquid but healed right away. Peter was grinning, eyes crinkling at the edges, and he says, “what? What’s so funny?” 

“Sorry,” Wade choked out, somehow managing to calm himself and his boxes down. “I - holy shit, that was so good. I just never heard you call Iron Daddy _ Tony _before - it’s always Stark or Jackass.” 

Peter smiled, but it was a quieter grin this time, and a seriousness blanketed over them to replace the light-hearted, slightly awkward air between them. He curled forward, tapping his fingers in a rhythm on the table, and began to talk. “So I did some research while you were taking a shower. I haven’t really messed with the multiverse before - “

“First time for everything,” Wade muttered. 

“ - but I managed to kind of sort of put the pieces together.” Peter hesitated, then nodded at the watch that Wade didn’t remember putting on. It was still busted, looking rather wrecked, which was a shame because otherwise it would’ve been a good-looking piece of metal. “I ran some sensors and there was a small rift coming from that thing; I think it’s what brought you here.” 

“I was on a job,” Wade said, cringing at the thought and slumping down his chair. “Shoulda known somethin’ was up. Shouldn’t’ve gone on the damn thing in the first place, I promised Spidey I wouldn’t kill anymore.” 

Peter hummed. “Did you?” 

“No.” 

“Then there you go,” Peter said, and he wrapped a hand around Wade’s fingers like he couldn’t bear to stop touching him for more than a few minutes. Wade didn’t mind - in fact, he curled their fingers to interlock with the others, and when Peter smiled shyly and looked up at him from underneath his long, pale lashes, Wade had to turn his head and cough to distract his boxes. 

“Do you know where we are?” Wade said, somewhat managing to calm himself down and turning to face Peter again. 

Peter shrugged, running his thumb over Wade’s scars and distracting the ex-merc even more. “I’m not sure, but I think maybe Earth 670? Give or take a few. Like I said, we haven’t been impacted by the multiverse much, so there’s been no reason to look into it.” 

“Huh,” was all Wade could say, and a silence fell over them. The ex-merc didn’t even notice the lull in conversation; he couldn’t, not when there was something far more interesting and captivating sitting right in front of him. There was a sort of gentleness to Peter that Spidey never showed to Wade. It was, of course, due to a large part about the whole secret identity thing - his Spidey never showed his face or name or any personal details, and Wade understood. Really, he did, because he was at least somewhat more cautious since he loved Papaya’s awesome personality and it would piss the fuck out of him if she was hurt, but it also meant that Wade and Spidey walked and talked on tip-toes around each other. 

But Peter wasn’t the same - actually, he was the literal opposite, because whenever Wade peered at him, it was like there was no filter to stop him from saying his thoughts or showing them on his face. He looked delicate even though Wade knew he wasn’t; he was fucking _ Spider-man _for crying out loud, but he was shorter than Wade’s Spidey and skinnier, too. While Spidey was snarky and sarcastic and loved to tease Wade about every little thing, Peter seemed to be willing to give Wade the moon if he asked. 

It was breathtaking. 

(Maybe even a little heartbreaking, because _ Spidey _sure didn’t look at him like Peter was now, and Peter wasn’t even seeing him, just his own green-eyed Wade. It was awful to think about.) 

“What’re you looking at?” Peter asked, his eyes half-lidded and looking like he would start purring with content any minute. 

Wade half-grinned and shrugged. “Just wonderin’ if Spidey is half as beautiful as you are.” 

Peter blushed, and it was lovely to see. (Wade wondered if Spidey ever blushed around him.) “So, I uh, can assume that this means you’re not sure who your Spider-man is?” 

Wade sighed and shook his head, using both his hands to grab one of Peter’s and holding it gently between his fingers. He concentrated on the hold, appreciating the feel of Peter’s smooth skin but also the calluses on his fingers from years of web-slinging. “No idea, darling-boy. We, hm. We aren’t that close, you could say.” He grinned tiredly. “I’m not even sure Peter Parker is my Spidey, but I think he’s gorgeous, whoever he is.” 

A pause. 

Then Peter let out a sweet, soft sigh, and he got up, loosening Wade’s grip on his hand. The ex-merc slid back his chair in surprise as the hero then climbed into his lap and looped his arms around Wade’s neck, bringing their noses together so the tips would rub and Peter would flutter his eyelashes against Wade’s cheek in a butterfly kiss. “You’re in love with him.” 

The words made Wade’s throat close up, and he gripped Peter’s hips tightly, his heart stuttering from both guilt and arousal at the close proximity of Peter’s scent, and oh fuck, oh _ man, _it was so easy to imagine Spidey here instead, to think it was Spidey who was wrapping his legs around Wade’s waist, to think it was Spidey looking at him with a tenderness that had Wade’s boxes silent and his heart hammering. “I am. Fuckin’ jesus christ, I am, Petey. I am and he hates me.” 

“Then stay with me,” Peter whispered against his skin. “Stay with me, Wade. I can be your Spidey. We can be together. Don’t you want this?” 

“I - “ Wade’s breath hitched, words cut off as Peter tugged him closer, blinking up at him slowly and the light making his long eyelashes seem golden. Wade should say no - he couldn’t, not like this, when it was so - so - _ wrong _ and fuck, Wade had his own dimension to think about. But Peter was sighing and Wade’s name fell off of his pink tongue and out of his cherry red lips, and when Wade looked close enough, there was grief swimming in the melted chocolate of his eyes, an understanding that let Wade know how bad of an idea Peter knew this was but he fucking _ wanted. _

And Wade always had a strong will, it was how he survived Weapon X and how he survived his boxes, but one look at Peter’s face and love was bringing him down to his knees so quick he wasn’t sure how to stop himself. 

{Fuck. Fuck. This is an awful idea.} 

[Look at him. We could eat him right up.] 

{Mm…} 

[Spidey won’t love you. He never will. But Peter’s willing to put up with your shit and he wants you, look at him, it’s like he can’t breathe without you here.] 

{Just give in.} 

[Do it.] 

{[Say yes.]}

“I do,” Wade choked out, and Peter grinned, his teeth a flash of white against his ruby lips, and when he leaned forward, Wade couldn’t help but think that maybe this was okay, because they both needed and wanted this. 

“Then stay with me, Red,” Peter cooed, and fuck, Wade almost died at that. Red was such a familiar nickname, one Spidey always called him in a particularly fond moment, and it was making Wade’s insides squirm in ways he only ever associated with the spider-themed hero. 

“I can’t,” Wade protested weakly. “You know I can’t, Petey-pie, my world - “ 

“Then just for a little,” Peter interrupted, and when he pulled back, there was a desperation in his voice and on his face that he hadn’t shown before. His grip was tighter on Wade’s shoulders, and he was pleading, swollen lips parting and letting out a sweet stream of words that made Wade’s head spin in desire and loosening his grip on his determination to get back home. “Just for a little, Red, please. Three days. Just three days, and I’ll fix your watch, and you can go. But don’t leave me.” 

“I don’t want to,” Wade said, and he didn’t. He really didn’t, because Peter’s touch was loving and soft and like Spidey’s, his voice so similar and his smell even more so, and he looked at Wade with a sort of love that he craved so bad from Spidey that it hurt like a fucking _ bitch _to think about what happened on the rooftop a day ago. 

“Then stay,” Peter murmured, eyes fluttering closed. “Stay.” 

Wade’s hands curled around his hips, pulling him close, and his heart was too weak. So he let out a sigh, buried his face into Peter’s neck, and said, “okay.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the shorter chapter?? 
> 
> answers will come soon lmao
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://redyarns.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/redyarns_)!


	4. d

Peter wasn’t sure what he should be feeling right now, but the most accurate portrayal of his feelings at the moment was pure _ chaos. _ It was like someone was summoning seas and tsunamis to roll around in his stomach and heart, and by the time he managed to pull himself away from that stupid, _ stupid _rooftop, he almost crashed into buildings twice on his way slinging home, which hadn’t happened since Peter was a teenager and only just got his powers. 

When he reached his apartment and snuck through the window and into the living room, he angrily yanked his mask off and threw it to the side. He was breathing heavily, way too heavy considering he hadn’t fought anyone or done too much web-slinging, but then he was bitterly reminded that he _ did _have a fight, just not a physical one. 

Peter wandered to his bathroom, stripping his costume as he went and feeling numb. When he looked in the mirror, a tired-looking man stared back at him, with dry tear tracks running down his face only serving to remind him why he had cried in the first place. Peter was always a frustrated and angry crier, and the emotional turmoil of that night was definitely more than enough to kickstart the tear ducts and have them overworking. He ran a hand through his messy hair, scowling when his fingers got caught in the brown curls. 

And then he blinked, and his eyes, which Aunt May always fondly called as _ baby blue, _were tearing up so fast and spilling over with globs of tears that he couldn’t hope to stop. He choked on his emotions, trying to keep quiet and just cry in both shame and silence, but he couldn't, and hiccuping coughs broke past his lips as he bent over his sink and saw big droplets of salty water plop into the drain through his blurry vision. 

“He promised me,” Peter choked out. “He promised me!” 

And he thrust out a fist on impulse, wincing when it caught the side of the sink and caused a decent sized chunk of granite to snap off and fall onto the floor. He sniffed, staring at the piece of granite, and couldn’t even feel mad about the fact that he’d definitely have to fix or pay for a repair unless he wanted his landlord to kill him. 

It was just too much on top of everything else. The shock of seeing that video of Deadpool stabbing that woman to death had been bad enough, but what hurt even more than the betrayal was how heartbroken Deadpool had sounded and looked on the edge of that rooftop. Deadpool’s mask was always expressive, which was weird because it was a _ mask, _but there had been a crinkle of a frown and for the first time, his gruff voice hadn’t been high-pitched in humor. 

_ But what if I got it wrong… _

_ “I love you.” _

Peter jerked his head back like he’d been slapped with the emotional brunt of it all. He felt like he couldn’t breathe when he met his own eyes in the mirror, and the only thing repeating through his head was the straightforward, blunt words Deadpool had said and what Peter had said in return. _ “You don’t know anything about love. You’re a killer.” _

“I’m gonna be sick,” Peter groaned, and it was a near thing, but he managed to pull himself onto his feet and made his way wobbly to his bedroom. He collapsed into bed only in his underwear, not even bothering to take a shower or take his web shooters off - he was too tired to do anything, and all he wanted was to pass out and not think about what had happened. 

When he fell asleep, he tried to ignore the memory of his heart freezing when Deadpool had said those blunt, gut-wrenching words, and how Peter had so vehemently rejected them. 

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

Peter woke up to his phone buzzing urgently and a crick in his neck from the odd angle he’d been at the whole night. He groaned, eyes feeling disgustingly crusty from his crying the night before, and he sleepily thrust an arm out to try and grab his phone before giving up and shooting a line of webbing to pull it towards him. It was his burner phone that was making a racket, the one he’d gotten only at Stark’s insistence, and he sighed heavily once he realized that the caller ID was from the man himself. 

Peter flipped open the phone and answered, “hello?” His voice was deeper than usual with his sleep, and he tried not to think about the fact how it was also rougher because of how much he had cried. 

“Kid, you’re in some deep shit,” Stark’s voice rumbled. 

“What’d I do this time?” Peter laughed humorlessly. 

“Come to the Avengers tower.” 

“Now?” Peter glanced at the slightly misshapen whale clock sitting on his drawers - the numbers _ 4:34 _blinked up at him, and he let out a groaning yawn. 

“Yes, _ now,_” Stark hissed, sounding way too close to the mic and causing the noise to static in Peter’s ear. “Because apparently a lovely young friend of that ruthless killer of yours is about to tear the whole damn place down and won’t stop until she sees you. So, yes, get here _ now _before I fucking fetch you myself so you can deal with this hell demon.” 

And with that lovely note, he hung up, and Peter stared at the phone in his hand before rolling his eyes and muttering, “goodbye to you, too, asshole.” He tossed the phone aside and ran a hand through his tangled curls, sighing as he sat there holding his head for a moment and trying to sort through his thoughts. There were too many things going on at the moment, too many variables and situations and issues, and all Peter wanted to do was track Deadpool down and either punch him or hug him. He couldn’t decide which. 

So instead, he began pulling on his suit, throat closing up when he thought of the _ “I love you,” _again, but he resolutely ignored it and all related thoughts as best as he could as he finally put on his mask and leapt out of his window. It was a quick swing to the Avengers headquarters slash living space since Peter wasn’t technically an Avenger but he’s partnered up with them too many times by this point to not know the route by the back of his hand. 

When he landed neatly at the front doors and pushed them open, his spidey-sense barely had the time to warn him before he was ducking and just managing to avoid the nice blue vase that Rogers had bought from being smashed against his skull. Peter flattened himself against the floor, stunned, as he watched a tiny blonde tornado of a young woman absolutely tear apart the place, screaming at the top of her lungs and four guards already passed out around her. 

“WHERE IS HE - “

“Ma’am,” a security dude said, looking rather sweaty and desperate as he lifted a placating hand and just somehow managed to dodge a golf club from smashing him right in the nose. “Ma’am, please, this is private property and I’m going to have to call the police - “

“I DON’T CARE!” She screamed, blonde curls absolutely wild and looking more like a ring of fire around her head as she took off a shoe and hurled it at the man, the sharp heel acting like a knife and hitting him straight in the shoulder. “WHERE IS HE? I’M NOT LEAVING UNTIL I SEE HIM AND PUNCH HIM IN THE FUCKING THROAT, _ WHERE IS SPIDER-MAN - _“ 

“I’m right here!” Peter shouted, hoping it would be enough to stop the terrifying woman from torturing any more of Stark’s employees. He felt himself start to sweat when the woman slowly turned around to stare at him, and it was suddenly like he couldn’t move. Her blue eyes were piercing, icy and sharp and like lightning when they made contact with his. He knew it was impossible but it felt as if she could look straight through the mask and right at his face. “I’m right here, your friendly old Spider - “ 

There were only a few people who ever managed to get past his spidey-sense, Peter thought to himself in a daze as he cradled his now aching jaw and turned his head slowly from where it had been punched to see a furious woman staring up at him, her fist still outstretched and a fire burning in her eyes. Peter gingerly touched his lower face, wincing at the lump already forming - _ ow. _Forget his super-healing, he was definitely going to feel that in the morning, what the fuck? 

“What - _ hey! _ ” Peter wasn’t proud of the loud yelp he made when she grabbed the collar of his costume and forced him down so they were eye-level with each other. There was a sort of fierce and righteous anger in her eyes that made him wince, and when she tightened her grip and nearly made him choke, he vaguely thought that she must have _ some _sort of superpower, because jesus christ. 

“You and I are going to have a nice little chat, _ Spider-man,_” her words were a direct contrast to her previous screeching, the loudness instead replaced by such an intense chill that he hissed lightly. She spat out his name like it was a poison and with one hand still gripping him, she turned and marched him further into the building like _ she _was the one who owned and built it. 

She slammed open the door to an empty room, pulled him inside, and locked the handle with a firm click. She then pushed him so he’d flail and fall on top of a table while she gracefully placed herself onto a chair and crossed her legs, her shining red heels (the other which she must have picked up again when he wasn’t looking) completing the image of a crime boss.

“Er,” Peter began, because this lady was _ scary _and hell, she’d been enough to spook Stark, and that wasn’t ever good in anyone’s book. “I don’t know what happened but - “

“You know plenty well what happened,” she said, and it was enough to shut his mouth with a loud clack. She tossed a blond curl over her shoulder, narrowed her eyes at him, and said, “my name is Papaya. And do you know what your name is?” 

“Um,” Peter said, feeling dumb. “Spider-man?” 

“That’s right,” Papaya nodded condescendingly. “Spider-man. But do you know what _ else _your name is?” When he shook his head no, she sneered and lifted her fingers, ticking off each one as she listed, “Spidey, Spidey-poo, Webhead, Webs, baby-boy - “

“Who are you,” Peter demanded, all pretenses of faint amusement now gone. Instead, he was tense, voice a growl and slightly hissy in his defense. His skin was crawling with both shock and fear - no one should know those names, because only _ Deadpool _ called him those, names that were secret and special and only Peter should know. The words _ spy _ and _ enemy _filtered through his head. 

Papaya rolled her eyes and frowned at him. “I can practically hear the gears clicking, Webass. I’m not working for the asshole side so keep your stupid hat on.” 

“Then who are you?” He demanded again. 

She leaned back against her chair, eyes blazing, and said, “a best friend. A very pissed off best friend, because I think I just saw a news report at midnight claiming that _ you, _ ” she said this with a firm finger poked into his chest, “have accused Wade of murder. So tell me, _ Spider-man, _ what makes you think that Wade could ever kill someone, and what ever gives you the right to accuse such _ bullshit _on him in the first place?” 

Her words were like knives, thrown carefully and hitting him all in the spots of weaknesses he wished he didn’t have. He choked, emotions too big and clogging his throat, and he managed to say, “you… you’re his friend. Did you just call him Wade?” 

“That’s his name,” she hissed, venomous and looking ready to strike. “But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Fucking some kind of _ friend _you are. I don’t why the hell Wade thinks you’re made out of heaven’s own fucking stars and clouds, because you’re the shittiest friend I know.” 

“There was a video,” he croaked, and his hands were shaky, shaky like how he had cradled Gwen’s body and sobbed into her throat while screaming and cursing himself. He tried to clench them to stop, but it didn’t work, and he could only stare under Papaya’s stony gaze. (She’s right, he’s a terrible friend, and oh god he was going to throw up - ) “Stark caught it under surveillance on the corner of forty-second and Baker’s, it was Deadpool but - he was - “ 

“What time?” She interrupted. 

“What?” 

“What time did it happen, dumbass?” She snapped. 

Peter swallowed. “Eight thirty-two in the afternoon last night.” 

She hissed, pupils narrow and cat-like, and her fingernails made impatient tapping sounds on her phone screen before she was thrusting it under his nose and had it so close to his face that he had to squint to realize what it was. It was Papaya and Deadpool, sitting together on a tiny bed in a blue-walled room with their arms thrown around each other. They were both obviously grinning, Papaya with her eyes half-closed and Deadpool’s mask making those familiar wrinkles that Peter knew only happened when the merc (ex-merc, his brain whispered) was mid-laugh. 

Their heads were pressed together to fit into the frame, and in the middle between them was Deadpool’s hand, glove off and showing Peter his skin for the first time. It was scarred, like, _ really _scarred, twisted and gnarled but not obscenely grotesque like Deadpool always made it out to be. His nails, though, were what really caught Peter’s attention - they were a shiny blue and red, alternating every nail, and his breath hitched when he realized they were the exact same shades as his costume. 

Peter’s eyes drifted around the picture, taking in the relaxed lines of Deadpool’s shoulders and also how he seemed perfectly okay with Papaya seeing that extra skin when Peter, who had known the man for months and fought crime with him on a daily basis, got to see none. He swallowed back an emotion he didn’t want to name and instead let his eyes wander even more before they eventually landed on the date and time stamp. His breath hitched. 

_ 11/02/2019, 8:27 PM. _

His eyes closed, and with that, he said, “you took that picture yesterday.” 

“At my apartment on Winchester Street.” 

Peter felt like crying. “That’s half an hour away from Baker’s.” 

Of course. Of _ course. _ Peter should have known that video was fake, or that something was off, because Deadpool had been so _ good _ the last few months and so caring and kind and the dude even had little Spider-man and Deadpool puppets in his pockets to comfort the little kids after a traumatizing battle. He bought Peter food all the time, insisting on feeding him because he knew Peter struggled to look after himself, and there was even that one time he’d given Peter a book on tips about how to deal with anxiety when the hero had a panic attack after a particularly bad fight. There was a certain gentleness to Deadpool that Peter hadn’t noticed until it was too late, because he was gone and Peter had said he was a killer and he said _ he loved Peter - _

When Peter came back to reality, he was gasping harshly and bent at the waist with his mask half-rolled up while Papaya stood over him and murmured to him in a low, comforting voice, her small hand rubbing his back while he coughed and sputtered and tried to breathe properly. 

“Breathe,” she said quietly, and she began tapping his back slowly, a soothing rhythm that he began to follow with his breaths. “Good. Keep going. You’re good, Spider-man, you’re good. I’m sorry for being so angry - but I love Wade, and he deserved better than the shit you gave him.” 

Peter jolted like he’d been electrocuted and he stared up at Papaya with wide, watery eyes. “Y-You love him?” 

She smiled almost fondly and said, “it’s hard not to. The guy saved me before he even saw my face, you know. Also his favorite ice cream flavor is rocky road - no one can be evil if they like marshmallows.” 

For the next few minutes, they sat like that, Peter’s breathing slowly evening out and her soft mutters about Deadpool grounding him. She talked about anything and everything, spilling little bits of him that had Peter reeling in the realization that he didn’t know Deadpool at all, but this girl knew him in every nook and cranny. When he stared at her, a feeling of _ something _bubbling in his chest, and he realized all of a sudden that Papaya got to cherish and treasure Deadpool while Peter didn’t. 

(It’s my fault.)

(He ran away - )

(Said he loved me - )

(She loves him? She loves him, but he loves _ me _ \- )

(I said he didn’t know anything about love, how he’s a killer - )

(I hate - how could I - I’m the worst person - I need to - apologize and say - fuck, fuck, _ fuck _\- )

“The news blew up all over the place,” Papaya said slowly and quietly. “How at midnight, Spider-man warned all civilians to stay away from Deadpool because he was a dangerous murderer.” 

“Oh, god,” he whined, feeling sick. 

“But you know that wasn’t Wade, right? You know Wade wouldn’t kill someone, right?” 

Peter nodded, unable to say anything else. 

“So fix it,” Papaya stood up, straightening her back and casually pulling on the jacket she had discarded like she hadn’t just shattered Peter’s world in a matter of seconds. She flicked her messy blonde curls away from her eyes and smiled slightly at the pathetic picture he must be, crouched on the floor and the bottom half of his face contorted with his emotions. “Wade always says how amazing you are, you know? So I better see some of that. Clear Wade’s name, and maybe I _ won’t _kick your ass the next time we see each other.” 

And with that, she left just as quick as she had come, red heels clacking smartly on the tiled floor while the loose jacket on her shoulders finished the image. Peter watched, stunned and scared and emotional as this tiny woman who was probably only three-fourths his size managed to both fuck up and fix everything all in one go. He ripped off his mask, flung it off to god knows where, and collapsed on the table, looking up at the ceiling. 

He threw an arm over his eyes, cursed, and said, “she’s _ scary._” 

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

Wade had a lapful of gorgeous while Peter concentrated on the watch he held carefully in his hands. He was doing some cool science and tech-y things on it that Wade could never hope to understand - Wade was more on the hacking or breaking side of computers, so this was all beyond his knowledge. But Peter had still insisted that Wade be there, and all it took was a flutter of his eyelashes before Wade was sitting down and Peter climbed into his lap with a grin. 

“How goes it, Petey-pie?” Wade asked, chin tucked into Peter’s shoulder as he watched sparks fly and Peter’s hands get slowly get more dirty. 

“Almost done,” he muttered back in a distracted tone, and Wade didn’t mind. Instead, the ex-merc hummed and buried his nose into Peter’s wild blond locks, taking in the smell of his shampoo that he just recently used that morning after they’d had another round in the kitchen against the counter. Wade had to hide a grin when he thought about it - Peter’s increased flexibility was honestly a blessing. 

{That counter needs a good disinfectant.}

[Seriously - I’m kind of scared to think that the pancakes we made were contaminated. Eugh.]

{Oh, _ gross. _}

“Wade?” 

“Yeah, Pete?” Wade answered just as softly. There was something fragile between them, only anchored by Wade’s hand enveloping Peter’s left hip, and he curled his fingers just that much tighter, vaguely realizing that it matched the hold he had on the shorter man when he had fucked into him and Peter had breathlessly sobbed for more. He knew that there were finger-shaped bruises on the milky skin, and an ugly and possessive creature inside of him purred at the thought. 

“You don't have to go.” 

“I do, Petey-pie,” Wade answered in a pained voice, and he pressed a soft kiss to the nape of Peter’s neck, sighing at the apple-scented shampoo and how little wisps of blond tickled his nose. He let out a breath and said, “you know I have to, darling-boy. I have things to do and asses to kick.” 

“But you can stay here,” and with that, Peter dropped the watch and turned around, his face red with his emotions and his brown eyes wide while they traced Wade’s own. “Please, Wade, you can stay here, we can be partners, we can live together and fuck and eat and you can make those stupidly big pancakes that you love with blueberries on top - “ his words were getting faster while his eyes grew steadily more shiny, tears pooling at his bottom lashes while he clutched at Wade’s shoulders. 

{I…}

[...]

Wade swallowed, and when White and Yellow hesitantly pushed his mind, he felt himself leaning forward and gently bumping their noses together while Peter gasped his sobs quietly. “I like strawberries, darling. I’m not your Wade - “ 

“I _ know! _ ” Peter screamed this, eyes clenched tightly and teeth gritting while tears plopped down his furiously red cheeks. “I know and it fucking _ hurts _ \- you look just like him, you _ sound _ just like him, and he’s gone, Wade, I lost him and he isn’t coming back but _ you’re _here - “

{He’s really fucked up over this. Oh god, he’s crying, what do we do?}

[Jesus. Wade, do something already!]

“Darling,” Wade croaked, feeling like someone had grabbed his heart and was squeezing it like a fucking lemon. He curled forward, hands reaching up and trying to wipe away the tears, only to stop when Peter heaved a sob and turned his head to press his lips to Wade’s palm, holding onto his hand like it was the only thing he could focus on right then. “Please - I - “ 

“He ran into the b-building,” Peter heaved, gut-wrenching cries leaving his lips as he leaned forward and fisted the front of Wade’s costume, the leather stretching and Wade absent-mindedly thinking he’d have to iron it out again. “Why did you run into the building you stupid _ bint, _you knew it was a trap - stupid - “ 

Wade could only take his arms and wrap them around Peter, letting the man cry into his shoulder and trying his best not to cry himself. He wasn’t sure if Peter truly knew who he was talking to anymore, to Wade or to _ his _Wade, but there was still such a heavy grief in his voice that Wade cleared his throat, and with a raspy start, he said, “you know Spidey doesn’t like beef in his tacos? I swear, babe, he has the weirdest tastes, I mean, who doesn’t like beef in their tacos?” 

[Still cute, though.]

{Even if it’s annoying that we keep having to use pork - I swear, our kitchen still smells like pig.}

Peter sniffled and stayed silent, but the grip he had on Wade’s suit was just that much looser, so he kept talking off the top of his head. 

“Also he makes like, the worst dad jokes ever. He _ loves _ puns, and hey, I love a good pun myself, but damn, baby-boy really runs his mouth when we’re kickin’ a baddie’s ass and I honestly don’t know whether I’m more impressed or disgusted everytime it happens,” Wade babbled, pressing his nose comfortingly against Peter’s forehead. “He’s awesome, darling. And I know how super weird and fucked up this all is, and you _ know _how much I love him - but you ain’t like him and I still adore you.” 

“You just like my butt,” Peter finally rasped, his laugh wet but his eyes shining with amusement as he lifted his chin and met Wade’s stare. “He sounds lovely, Wade.” 

“I wish he loved me, too,” Wade muttered, and he sighed before pressing a gentle kiss to bridge of Peter’s nose, mentally counting how many freckles there were. “But I don’t doubt _ your _Wade not lovin’ you to itty-bitty pieces, pumpkin. Whatever he did - I know he did it for you.” 

Peter shook his head, let out a shaky breath, and said, “sorry. I - sorry, I mean, I know you’re right, but it was - it was the anniversary. When you came to this world, I mean - it was day when he… died. I guess I was more torn up about it than I let on,” he smiled wobbly. “And seeing you didn’t really help.” 

“Aw, shit,” Wade said. “Fuck, darling, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Peter whispered. 

“It really isn’t,” Wade muttered. “How long were you two - “ 

“We started dating when I was twenty-three,” Peter said softly, hesitantly picking up the watch again and letting his nimble fingers fly once more, an expression of nostalgia on his face as he worked. “It was so dumb, too, I was never subtle about liking him and he was the most oblivious person ever. Eventually I was so tired of waiting that I straight up told him I was in love with him and he’d better take me on a date before I did something about it.” 

His hand shook and Wade enveloped it with his own - Peter took in a breath, nuzzled him with gratitude, and began to do something to the watch that had small sparks flying off and landing harmlessly on Wade’s suit. “It, uh. It went good - really good. I think we pissed off Tony from how much we fooled around in the lab, but he was happy for us and it meant the world to me.” Peter cleared his throat. “We knew we were moving fast but we decided to move in together after a few months - there was no point in waiting, you know? We knew we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.” 

His voice wavered at the end, and Wade’s boxes had never been more quiet. “We _ thought _we were, anyway. We, um. It was a few years later - last year - and he was turning twenty-eight and we were really excited because we’d been talking about serious future stuff. A few months passed and I’d - I had - “

At this, Peter reached down into his pocket and grabbed something. When Wade made a curious noise, Peter took his hand and gently unfurled the gloved fingers and placed something small on his palm. Wade nearly jumped when he realized what it was - a silver ring sat right in the middle of the leather, shiny and polished and just the right ring size for Wade’s finger. Something on the inside caught the light of the living room, and when he turned it slightly at a better angle, he realized there was an engraving on the inner ring - _ until the stars fall. _

“What,” Wade croaked, his voice suspiciously rough and his eyes damp underneath his mask. His grip tightened on Peter’s hip, but he didn’t dare fist the hand with the ring on it, irrationally scared that he’d somehow crush the band even though he knew he wouldn’t. “What does it mean? The thing on the inside.” 

“It was something he used to say to me every night,” Peter choked out, and before he had been sobbing, gasping and drowning in his grief, but this time, when the tears fell, they were silent and his hands were shaky when he took the ring and held it between them. “I love you, baby-boy, he said, _ until the stars fall. _” 

“He - “

“He knew that that would never happen,” Peter said. “So to us it was forever. It was our vow and I never managed to say it back to him, because the night I was going to propose something went wrong and I - he was gone. I couldn’t even do anything about it.” 

Wade choked on his own emotions, tears dripping down and past his scars. The droplets fell onto Peter’s lap as he twisted around with the ring in his hand, and when he tried to put it on, the band was too big on his slender finger. Wade grasped Peter’s hand, and neither of them mentioned how they trembled together. 

“I wish he was here,” Peter sobbed. “I wish Wade was here and your Spidey loved you back - I wish this never happened but I don’t want you to go, please, Wade, _ please _ \- “

“Me too, darling-boy,” Wade said, and he wasn’t weeping, not like how Peter was curling into himself and grasping the ring like it was the only thing anchoring him to earth, but his voice was rough and tears were still stinging his eyes. The boxes were completely silent, not even a quip being heard - they were just as enraptured and heartbroken for the trembling man sitting in Wade’s lap, and something swelled in him. It wasn’t… it wasn’t _ love. _How could it be, when they had so explicitly said they didn’t see each other when they looked, and how could it be when they literally only met three days ago? But there was a deep sympathy in Wade, and so when he brushed his hand over Peter’s and hushed him, his voice was impossibly soft and blown with hopefully enough affection to soothe Peter’s turmoil. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Wade muttered, gently unfurling Peter’s fist to reveal the shiny ring once more. “And _ hell _I wish your Wade were here to stop your tears, darling-boy, and I wish my Spidey didn’t hate me. But we have each other. For now, it’s enough. Isn’t it enough?” 

“But you’re _ leaving me, _” Peter cried out. “You’re leaving me just like he did, and I’m going to be alone again, and I need you, Wade, I need you - “ 

“I need you too,” Wade rasped. “Fuckin’ jesus _ christ _I need you, sugarcube, need you like the goddamn air, but my world - you know I - “ 

“Then come back,” Peter pleaded, big brown eyes wide and tearful as he looked up to make eye contact with Wade. His face was a rosy pink from his emotions, his lips swollen and red from how he’d been biting on them, and when he shifted closer, he slid his hands around Wade’s neck and pulled him down so Wade could just barely feel the brush of Peter’s hair against his forehead. “I can fix the watch, I can, but I can make it so you can travel back and forth - it’s okay if you leave for a few days a week, right? I’m right here, Wade. I know your Spidey isn’t but - but I _ am. _” 

His boxes spoke. 

[Oh… he’s… he needs us.] 

{Who the hell are we kidding? We need him even more. He takes the shitty feeling away, makes us forget about everything - we can pretend he’s our Spidey, you know, he sounds and smells just like him.} 

[This isn’t healthy.] 

{Is anything about us healthy?} 

[I - touche.] 

“I love you, Red,” Peter said softly, and there were still tears on his eyelashes but he was smiling slightly, hand running up and running just under the seam of Wade’s mask. It was a lie - _ all _ of this was a lie - but when Wade held him tighter, closed his eyes, and imagined, he could pretend that that was Spidey who’d said it, _ his _Spidey, and it had his heart thumping and shivers running up his spine. 

“I love you, too,” Wade muttered, and Peter let out a breath, pressed a final kiss to his lips, and pressed something into his hand. 

“I modified it to work seamlessly now,” Peter muttered, but his eyes were for Wade only when the ex-merc quickly pulled the thing on. “It should work and take you to where we are right now, just - just in your dimension instead.” 

“Thanks, darling,” Wade said, and when he latched on the watch with a final click, they looked at each other. There was an unspoken promise between them, one Wade couldn’t hope to break, and it was wrong - it was fucking awful and toxic and _ so wrong _but Peter was reaching for him again and they were kissing, desperate and sloppy and gasping their mis-placed love into each other’s lips. 

“I’ll be back in a week,” Wade gasped as Peter bit a claiming mark onto the side of his neck. “Hh - I promise, darling, I promise - “ 

“Love you,” Peter muttered into the gnarled skin, “I love you, love you so much, I miss you - “ 

And with that, Wade touched the watch, and that familiar white light shined bright in his eyes. Just before he squeezed them shut out of fear of temporary blindness, he could see Peter still sitting on his lap, clutching the ring close to his chest and a half-hopeful, half-sad smile on his lips while he formed words Wade couldn’t hear but could still understand. 

_ “See you soon.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof! papaya was ready to shred peter's ass into confetti. no one fucking disses wade without the consequences
> 
> other wade's death wasn't properly explained but that was intentional, more details will eventually be revealed. 'm sorry for all of you more eager to see spidey and wade's relationship grow but now isn't the time for that (yet)
> 
> also also i hope it was obvious enough exactly which peter i was talking about everytime i switched? 
> 
> also also also if it wasn't clear enough, what happened was that there was a video caught of "deadpool" killing someone, and peter got wind of it. he freaked the fuck out and overreacted 
> 
> also also also also when papaya said she loved wade she meant it in a platonic way, but peter misinterpreted it 
> 
> make sure to listen to the playlist for extra feels!
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://redyarns.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/redyarns_)!


	5. e

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which spidey and wade finally talk

Wade blinked the spots out of his vision and the smell of gunpowder and sawdust filled his nose. He grimaced as he realized that the watch had worked (of course it did, Peter was so smart it honestly scared Wade a little) and deposited him straight back in his apartment, his position the same as when he’d left earth 670, his arms hung in the air like he was still holding Peter, the leather of Wade’s suit still warm from the other’s skin. But he was definitely not in Peter’s apartment - the hazy, vanilla scent of it was gone, the softness of the walls and sunlight a direct contrast to the absolute disaster called Wade’s apartment. It was exactly as he had left it, destroyed and broken and a complete reminder of why Wade had decided to stay with Peter in the first place. 

Wade groaned, rubbed at his face, and realized that the sanctuary of Peter’s hugs and kisses were now gone, instead replaced by his harsh reality. It filled Wade with bitterness as he realized that _ he _had been the one to insist on going home to this hellhole, especially since the reason he came back was for Spidey. The Spidey who had made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with Wade. 

[So… are we not going to clean?] 

“I’m never touching even a goddamn dishrag again,” Wade snapped, and the voice fell silent. “So fucking forget your cleaning.” 

{We need a new phone.} 

Yellow’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, like it was trying to comfort Wade, which was a fucking joke considering how cruelly those stupid boxes liked to taunt him. It was fucking annoying and awful, but what was even worse that it was _ working, _and Wade slowly walked over to the opposite wall and bent down to grab the crushed mass of glass and metal he vaguely remembered throwing during his fit of frustration after the rooftop incident. He winced when he remembered the messages he’d gotten from Papaya, and he winced even more when he realized that he’d been gone for three days and hadn’t called or texted her once. He was always spamming her, and she was always spamming him back, so there was no doubt she was probably worried out of her mind for him. 

“New plan,” Wade announced, standing up and shoving the broken device into one of his pockets. “Go find Papaya, get new phone after.” 

The way to Papaya’s apartment was the same as ever, though it was a little jarring to be in the familiar streets of New York again. It smelled like piss and asphalt as it always did, when back in Peter’s world, almost everything had smelled like that sweet, heavy tint of vanilla. It was almost gratifying to Wade, though he couldn’t say he exactly missed this world. 

He hopped up onto the fire escape of a shitty little apartment building and climbed up with relative practiced ease, and when he came upon a window that had a papaya sticker slapped onto it (a joke by him that Papaya had never appreciated, it’d resulted in him being kicked out for a week), he rapped the glass loudly with his knuckles in the rhythm of Hedwig’s Theme. 

There was the sound of a plate smashing on the ground, a loud “FUCK!” screamed at the top of the lungs, and the door to Papaya’s room slammed open to reveal his very favorite woman in the whole wide world. He couldn’t help but grin when she stomped up to the window and shoved it open to reveal her red face and twitchy lips. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” He greeted, sliding into the room and immediately flopping onto Papaya’s too-small bed after kicking off his boots. The familiar scent of Papaya’s shampoo against the sheets relaxed him - out of everything shitty in his life, at least she was his constant, and someone he could look forward to meeting everyday without them getting tired of each other. Maybe she was part of the reason why he came back, too - he’d never had a best friend like her before. 

“What’s up?” Papaya thundered repeatedly, shutting the window so loud that it scared several pigeons outside away. “What’s _ up? _ You’ve been missing for _ three fucking days _ without a single message, and you have the fucking BALLS TO SAY _ WHAT’S UP?_” 

She grabbed a tennis ball lying innocently on her desk and threw it so hard at him that he yelped and ducked just in time for it to knock into her shelf and topple several heavy textbooks over. Jesus _ christ. _

{Dude. She’s pissed. Like, _ really _pissed.} 

[Aw, I missed her.] 

{Maybe save the sentiment for later, because we’re about to fucking die - LOOK OUT!} 

Wade screamed a little shrilly when she jumped onto the bed and grabbed the collar of his costume, shaking him back and forth so rapidly that he could practically feel his eyeballs rattling in his skull. She was snarling, pupils so slit that she resembled more snake than human, and when she spoke, her voice was _ loud. _“You better have a goddamn explanation for all of this, Wade! NOW!” 

“I - okay, uh - “ Wade managed to choke, feeling his airway slowly close from the white-knuckled grip she had on his costume. “Can’t - can’t breathe, Paps - “ 

Then, to the horror of both him and his boxes, she burst into tears. It wasn’t the simpering, cute-sy kind of crying she once did when they visited a pet store and she found that obscenely cute kitten, but it was the kind of dry-heaving and body-shaking sobs that reminded Wade too much about how he’d left Peter. She cried into his shoulder, grip as tight as ever on his costume, but when he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her and gently patted her blond curls, she didn’t pull away. 

“Paps?” He asked a little timidly. Papaya wasn’t ever one for crying like this - hell, she didn’t even cry at Mufasa’s death scene, and that one always had Wade bursting into tears like a baby. To see her like this, mascara running down her cheeks and her lips twisted, was enough to have him a little alarmed. 

“Where _ were _you?” She finally managed, lifting her head and glaring at him so sharply that the blue of her eyes were more like knives than anything. He hissed when she pulled off of him and tugged him along with her, forcing him to sit upright. “What the hell happened?” 

[Should we tell her?]

{If we don’t then we’d spill it anyway somehow. Better to do it now.}

[Good point.]

So Wade blurted it all out. He spilled every single detail about what happened, maybe even a little too much because she looked horrified when he described how he and Peter had sex, but that look on her face could also be because of the fact that the whole situation was bat shit crazy. It could also be a little bit of both. 

“Well?” Wade said as he finished. He wrung his hands together nervously. “What say you, Pappy?” 

Papaya blinked slowly, and it would have been comical if not for the frown that twisted her lips and brows. She sighed, slapped his knee, and said, “I think this calls for a pig’s night.” 

Fifteen minutes later they were on her bed, a large pepperoni and pineapple pizza between them and a bucket of rocky road sitting on each of their laps. 

Papaya shoveled a whole slice into her mouth, swallowed it, and began to speak. “I’m sorry.” 

“Huh?” Wade said thickly, his cheeks bulging with the pizza. He hadn’t eaten that much when he’d been with Peter, since they were so focused on _ other _things. He missed greasy New York pizza. “About what, Pappy-Sappy?” 

She made a face at the name, but the pinch he usually got didn’t come. “Don’t call me that. Also, I don’t know,” she shrugged, stabbing her spoon into the ice cream and viciously repeating the motion so it’d be softer. “I guess I just - it feels like part of my fault. I encouraged you to tell Spider-man about your feelings and - “ her face hardened like she just remembered something, and she said, “forget about him, Wade. He’s a dick. I can’t believe he did that to you, _ especially _after the shit he pulled that night.” 

He made a questioning noise but she waved it off in a way that he understood as _ I’ll tell you later. _“Well, either way, it’s okay, Paps. I mean, like, this all kind of sucks - “ an understatement of the century, “but I don’t blame you. This shit storm happened cause of me.” He tried to shrug his shoulders but he was too tense, unease coursing through him as he couldn’t help himself and began carving a knife into his ice cream with his spoon. “It was cause I kept tryin’ to push him and he wasn’t ready, I knew he didn’t like me but I still did it anyway.” 

It was silent. 

“Well,” Papaya said, taking out a monster scoop of ice cream and shoving it into her mouth, swallowing it without even flinching. “Good riddance, anyway. I know the whole thing is shitty at best, and it’s seriously weird, but if Peter makes you happy then I guess I can’t say anything.” 

Wade grimaced. “I dunno if he makes me _ happy, _Paps.” 

“I know,” she said softly, hand reaching over and holding his comfortingly, squeezing his fingers to silently let him know her support. “It isn’t… it isn’t healthy, Wade. Far from it, actually. But after what you’ve been through, after what _ he’s _been through, I think you both deserve this break.” 

“I - “ Wade couldn’t even get past that, the events of the past few days finally catching up to him, and before he knew it, the pizza and ice cream were tossed to the side as he curled up in Papaya’s lap and cried like a baby. He sobbed quietly, tears silent with the occasional sniffle breaking through, and Papaya didn’t say anything, only humming his favorite songs while running her hand up and down his back. 

There were so many things he wanted at that moment - he wished Spidey loved him back, he wished Peter’s Wade didn’t die, he wished that he _ never even fucking came to New York _\- but he couldn’t change the world, at least not in that way, so when Papaya quietly offered him another slice of pizza, he merely turned his head and opened his mouth for her to stuff it into. 

“You’re lucky you’re upset,” she grumbled, but her touch was still gentle when she stroked his back while steadily feeding him bite after bite. “Or else I’d kill you for even thinking I’d feed you like you’re a toddler.” 

By the end of the day, the sun was setting and they were both curled up on the couch, watching some old time-y movie that was in black and white but it successfully brought tears to Wade as he wept into a throw pillow that he vaguely remembered giving Papaya for her birthday. 

“You deserve better!” Wade shouted at the tv, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen where it bounced off the glass and landed on the carpet somewhere. “He cheated on you, goddammit, Janice!” 

“So,” Papaya said carefully, her voice cautious and slow and so nonchalant that he didn’t even really reply, only humming in response. “Are you going to go see him?” 

Wade slammed the pause button, whipped his head around to stare at her, and his mouth gaped in horror. “_Who?_” 

Papaya rolled her eyes and flicked a kernel at his head, the piece hitting him straight between the eyes of his mask before it fell off into his lap. “You _ know _who I’m talking about, Wade. Are you going to go see him? Spidey?” 

“I dunno,” Wade muttered, now feeling uncomfortable as he pressed play on the remote and muted the volume so he could still stare at something and avoid Papaya’s piercing gaze. He squeezed the pillow to himself, his stomach churning and one of his boxes commenting that the third box of ice cream had probably been a mistake. “I don’t - I want to see him, but, like, not at the same time. Does that even make any sense?” 

“Makes perfect sense,” Papaya said, nodding sagely and stretching out on the couch and one of her feet landing on his thigh. She was wearing her cute cat socks, the ones Wade had insisted on buying her when she once grumbled about lack of funds for new clothes, and he was happy to see that he’d guessed her size correct. “To be honest, I wouldn’t want to see the guy either. He’s scum.” 

Wade swatted at her half-heartedly for the insult, but she merely dodged it and flipped him the bird before continuing. “But you _ have _been missing for three days, you know. Last time I saw him, he was a mess. Crying all over himself - honestly, what a baby.” 

“But I - wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait - “ Wade paused, turning to squint at the girl. “You went to _ see _him?” 

“Didn’t I tell you?” She said, spoon full of half-melted ice cream almost to her mouth as she looked at him in surprise. When he made a stiff no motion, she winced, shrugged, and said, “yeah, look, I was fucking pissed, alright? Waking up to see news articles of your best friend being accused of murder by the love of his life while said best friend didn’t message me the whole night when he promised he would? It fucks a person up.” 

“Sorry,” he said quietly. 

“Wasn’t your fault,” she grunted, waving him off. “Anyway, I think the guy’s scum, but he managed to clear up most of the mess he made so I guess he can be somewhat decent. He’s worried for you, Wade, even I could see it.” 

Wade fidgeted, playing with his hands and suddenly getting a flash of Peter’s own hands in his, and he remembered how they’d clasped a ring between them. He tightened his fingers into fists. “You sure?” 

“Positive,” Papaya drawled, nudging his thigh gently with her foot. “Go see him tonight. Maybe it’ll give you closure or something. Peter was the first step, so maybe this can be the second.” 

“Yeah,” Wade mindlessly agreed, but he knew it wasn’t that easy. Despite everything, he still loved Spidey with all his heart. Peter was there to fill the holes, but it was kind of like jamming a similar piece into a puzzle set - it worked for a while, but ultimately, things leaked and got through because it wasn’t the right fit. Peter’s calloused hands and soft words soothed the ache in Wade’s chest but it could only do so much. 

And Wade… Wade _ missed _ Spidey. He wanted to see him, to breathe in his scent, to see his red and blue costume instead of the red, blue and black one that Peter wore. Wade wanted to blurt out apologies and fix their relationship, because before they hadn’t been a couple, but at least they’d been _ good. _ They were close friends who spent hours after sunset just talking, eating, and laughing while punching up bad guys, and Wade missed all of that and Spidey _ so much _that it almost physically hurt. 

So Wade decided to bite the bullet. 

He left the sanctuary of Papaya’s apartment and as a peace offering, also brought a few spaghetti tacos that they’d made together while shaking their hips to Taylor Swift songs. 

[Do you think he’ll find us?] 

“I dunno,” Wade said, feeling nervous as he climbed on top of a relatively tall building and settled on the edge. 

{I doubt he wants to see our ugly mug.} 

[I’m nervous.] 

“Fuck,” Wade whispered, wishing his stupid boxes would just shut the fuck up. They weren’t helping his anxiety over the whole thing - in fact, he wished he never even decided to come, because hey, he liked a good fight, but emotional shit? No. It often felt like the fist-less battles were the ones that hurt him the most, especially when it involved Spidey. 

But he stayed anyway, swinging his feet slowly in the air and watching the cars below him pass by with a sort of absentmindedness that had him drifting away every now and then. The streetlamps were starting to turn on, glowing bright and orange in the darkness of the night, and when Wade let out a breath, it became a puffy cloud before disappearing. 

{What time is it?} 

Wade shrugged. “Don’t know. Didn’t buy a new phone yet, remember?” 

[It’s late. We’ve been sitting here for like three hours.] 

{This feels too familiar for me. Let’s get out of here.} 

[Shut up, Yellow.] 

{_You _shut up, White. Suck a dick.} 

“Both of you shut up,” Wade hissed under his breath, and again, he felt his hands tighten. They were right, though. The waiting game and the chilliness of the night were too familiar - they were the salt upon Wade’s still open wound, and when he glanced up, all he could see was the way Spidey had looked at him, like he was scum of the earth and nothing more than his past. Maybe he _ should _leave, Wade thought to himself, rubbing his hands up and down his arms and wishing he brought a goddamn jacket or something. It was cold. 

“Screw this,” Wade finally huffed, and he stood up, gripping the bag of spaghetti tacos. It was late, it was cold, and he’d never been more emotionally exhausted. The temptation to just go back to Papaya and bother her until she made him a hot cocoa and watch Frozen was too much, so he tucked the bag under his arm, ready to jump off and make his way back to Papaya’s shitty apartment -

  
  
“_‘POOL!_” 

Wade let out a high-pitched shriek as he felt something snap onto the back of his costume and tug hard, making him tumble backwards onto the building’s roof once more, the shock of the sudden movement making him drop his bag of food before ramming straight into a pair of legs. There was a flurry of grunts and red and blue all around, limbs tangling together and knocking into chests and stomachs, and Wade wheezed when he felt a hard elbow jab into his left lung. 

“Sorry!” 

Wade felt a little dazed - from the elbow still jammed into his side or the person whose elbow just hurt him, he didn’t know - as he tilted his chin up and saw Spidey of all people hovering over him, their legs still twisted together and his mask way too close to be comfortable. Wade winced at their close proximity, his heart beating fast from both affection and nervousness. “Uh, heya, Spidey. Look, you’re kind of squishin’ my lung there, so if you could - “ 

“Oh, right,” Spidey said, and he cleared his throat before carefully moving his arm so Wade could actually breathe. For another few seconds they lied like that, and with each moment that passed, Wade could feel his shoulders tense more and more. 

Finally, he said, “Spidey? You’re - you’re still on top of me.” 

“_Oh!_” Spidey repeated, and he rolled off of Wade this time, and the ex-merc took in a quick breath of relief as he sat up straight and rubbed at his side in a hopefully nonchalant manner while his mind was anything but. His boxes were going _ crazy. _

“Hi,” Spidey said softly, his tone gentle and the lens of his mask wide as he slowly crept forward, crouching on all fours and looking like a spider (_haha_). He stopped just a foot away from Wade, and after clearing his throat, pulled up his mask to his nose to let Wade see the hesitant smile on his pretty lips as he said, “I missed you.” 

And it was like a punch to the guts, those words. Wade choked on air, gasping, and all he could think was _ what the fuck? _It was such a jarring difference from what Wade expected and from how they parted the last time they saw each other. Wade had anticipated at least some sort of anger, maybe even frustration, but the sweet words accompanied by a shy, honest smile showed Wade that apparently, Spidey was going to surprise him in all aspects tonight. 

“What?” Wade finally croaked out, eyes wide and fixated on the superhero. “I - _ what?_” 

“You were gone for a while,” Spidey said, lips twisting into a frown. “And I was really worried. Not - not that I blame you,” and he shrugged, trying to seem casual, but there was now a certain tension that Wade was all too familiar with because he was doing the exact same thing. “It was all my fault, anyway.” This time, Spidey’s smile was bitter, twisting his mouth into more of a grimace than a grin. 

Wade took a breath to speak, except he couldn’t as Spidey raised up a hand and Wade’s mouth clacked shut. 

“I’ve been a shitty friend, Red,” Spidey began, his voice so low and sad that it punched Wade right in the gut. He felt his stomach and heart squeeze as Spidey slowly inched closer, words spilling out of his lips like he couldn’t control them, each sentence longer and faster than the last. “I just - I freaked out too much, and I overreacted so badly that it made everything turn into a complete shit-show. I’m so _ sorry, _ Red, I know that I pushed you away and hurt you - and - and I know you hate talking about feelings, but I want you to know that I will do _ anything _ to make it up to you. I know I can be an asshole a lot of the time, and it’s not fair for me to take it out on you, and you’re - you’re not a killer. You’re _ not, _and I swear to god if I could then I would go back in time and strangle myself for even telling you. And I just. I missed you,” he finished the word vomit with the three simple words from before, his voice a little strangled and choked as he leaned in close, his mask just inches away from Wade’s own. 

“I - “ Wade struggled. He struggled to speak, struggled to think, struggled to goddamn _ breathe _as Spidey somehow crept even closer, like Wade was a scared animal he desperately didn’t want running away, and the ex-merc nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the very tips of Spidey’s spandex-covered fingers brush against his own. 

“I missed you,” Spidey sighed for the third time that night, and it was too much for Wade. The way it fell off of Spidey’s lips like a prayer, the way his scent drifted closer, how it almost seemed like he was gravitating towards Wade - it was too much like - like - _ Peter. _

“Er - “ Wade said, and he scooted back, everything too fast and too new for him to fully comprehend. His heart was beating rapidly, and oh, he wanted to reach out and _ touch, _ to see if those rosy lips were really just as soft as they looked, but something was holding him back. He wanted to laugh hysterically or scream in frustration - just a few days ago he would have been all over this, all over _ Spidey, _ but god _ dammit _his hands wouldn’t move and instead he put a foot of distance between them, unable to breathe properly with the hero so close. 

“Red?” Spidey called, and a frown was twisting his lips this time. “Are you okay?” 

Wade laughed, wheezing and dry and a little bit in disbelief. “Yeah - uh, yeah, totally, baby-boy,” he nearly choked on the nickname, “I’m just a little shook, I guess. Um. I was totally convinced you hated my guts since the last time we saw each other so - “ 

“No,” Spidey said, shaking his head back and forth rapidly like he was trying to get rid of bad thoughts in his skull by forcefully ramming them out. He crawled forward again, and this time Wade couldn’t back up anymore, because the bottom of his spine was touching the ledge and _ yes _ he could fall off and he’d (sort of) be fine, but dying by spine breaking wasn’t the most fun experience and _ fuck he was so close again, why was he getting so goddamn _ close _ \- _

“I don’t hate you, I promise,” and Spidey said it a little desperately, like he was trying to show Wade nothing else was a possible option. His fingers were creeping too close again, the tips now on top of Wade’s, and he flinched, about to take his hand back if it wasn’t for Spidey suddenly grabbing his wrist and the half-formed words on his mouth freezing. 

“Spidey?” Wade asked timidly when a whole minute had gone by without either of them saying anything. 

Spidey’s breath was harsh, like he was breathing in deeply, and suddenly his nose flared just a little before he said, “you smell different. You smell… not _ you._” 

Wade froze. 

{[Oh, _ shit._]}

See, here was the thing - Wade had managed to wheedle out _ some _ details about Spidey’s origin stories, but out of it all, the most concrete stuff the hero had told him was about his powers. A lot of people didn’t really understand it because he made it all purposefully a secret - Spidey’s senses were enhanced. _ All _ of them. That included his ability to smell, and Wade knew for a fact that what he was smelling was the imprints of Peter and his world all over Wade, from his face to his chest to his - well - _ everywhere. _

A blinding panic seized Wade, the kind that made him want to jump the fuck off of this building and hopefully death meant a quick moment of clarity, but the last time he’d even joked about that, Papaya had cried and refused to talk to him for three days. So he held his ground just barely - because he could _never _let Spidey find out about Peter, it was sick and twisted and _wrong - _with lightning shooting up and down his arm from where Spidey still held onto his wrist, and as his boxes scrambled for an answer, Wade blurted out, “I got a girlfriend!” 

{Dude. What. The _ fuck._} 

[Oh my god. I know where you’re going with this - when she finds out, you’re dead.] 

Spidey let go of him like he’d been burned. He shot up onto his feet, except it was too fast and too much movement at once, and he flipped over backwards before smashing his face against the stone and the rest of his body flopping onto the ground with it. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Wade could literally feel liters of sweat pouring out of his pores. 

“_What?_” Spidey finally said, lifting his face off of the ground, and Wade grimaced when he saw the scratches over smooth, tanned skin, but the hero didn’t even seem to realize that he just ate gravel. “You - _ who?_” 

“Uh,” Wade stuttered, and after struggling with something to say, he blurted out, “Papaya! Yup! Um - my girlfriend, Papaya, uh-huh, I love my Pappy and um - see - I smell like this because I’ve been over at hers for the past couple of days! And we spent most of our time, like, canoodling and stuff, cause I needed the comfort and she’s awesome - “ he was blabbering now, a nervous habit he knew he and Spidey both possessed. He couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth, but Spidey’s was slowly opening in recognition. 

  
“_Papaya,_” Spidey repeated slowly, rolling the name around his mouth before he struggling to get back onto his knees. “I - yeah, I think I get it now. You know she punched me in the jaw?” He said it in a monotone voice, the one he used whenever his mind was racing in the background, but Wade stopped noticing when the hero lifted his mask just a little higher and revealed the purple mark that was vaguely shaped like a fist right below his ear. 

Wade gaped. “She never told me she did that.” 

“Yeah,” Spidey said, and there was something a little bitter in his voice as he let his mask slide down. “Guess I know why she did it.” 

The next few minutes were filled with a tense, suspenseful silence. It had Wade’s skin itching like there were millions of ants crawling up and down his arms and back, but he didn’t say anything, because Spidey was pursing his lips and he was keeping a good two feet distance between them unlike before. There were a shit ton of stuff Wade _ wanted _ to say, though, like _ do you even remember I told you I love you? Why the fuck are you falling for this lie? Does the bruise hurt? Why were you getting so close, before? Do you know I’m still stupidly in love with you? _

“Wade?” 

He nearly jumped. Wade blinked slowly as he watched Spidey, unsure if what he just heard was real or not, because it’d been so soft and sweet and hesitant that it only reminded Wade of Peter. 

{I miss him.} 

[Maybe we need him more than I thought.] 

But it was also different because this _ wasn’t _Peter, it was Spidey. Wade’s Spidey. The one creeping forward again, this time more slower, like he was balancing on a tightrope and Wade was the finish-line. He’d never called Wade that before. With Spidey, it was all about anonymity - there was never a moment of true intimacy between them, and Wade had been mostly okay with it, though on the bad days he did wish Spidey would just call him by his name at least once. 

“Is it okay if I call you that?” Spidey asked, and he bit his lip. Wade nearly groaned. “I remember - _ her _\- saying that was your name.” 

For a brief moment, Wade wondered why Spidey didn’t say Papaya’s name when it was obvious which _ her _he was talking about. But then the hero slid forward even more, lips half-parted, and goddammit, he was gorgeous. Of course he was - Wade never doubted Spidey being beautiful, no matter who he was - and it was scrambling Wade’s brain cells. 

“Sure thing, baby-boy,” Wade said, and they both didn’t comment on how hoarse his voice was, how deep it came from within his chest. 

“I’m,” and Spidey bit his lip again here, like he was chewing on his words and holding something back, because what he said next was halted and choppy, but he was smiling. “- glad you and Papaya are together. Someone has to keep you out of trouble, right?” 

Wade smiled too, except his wasn’t as wide and it definitely wasn’t genuine. “Yup!” 

“So,” Spidey hesitated. “Are we cool?” 

Wade stopped. He looked at Spidey, at his tanned skin and his half-smiling lips, and he thought about what the hero had said tonight. Maybe they hadn’t been the most eloquent of words, and they certainly hadn’t been the most gentle, but Spidey was sitting there with a hopeful grin on his face and Wade - Wade loved him. It was hard, harder than it ever was, because if Wade closed his eyes for too long and blinked them open again, he could so easily see Peter there, with his milky skin and soft eyes and purple-bitten thighs, but Spidey wasn’t Peter.

[We can be friends again.] 

{And Peter’s always there, you know. It ain’t good but it _ feels _so good.} 

[Best of both worlds, right?]

But out of all of this, out of all the weirdness and the shittiness of the whole thing, Wade at least knew one thing - he didn’t want to lose Spidey, and damned if he let anything get in the way of that. 

So he breathed, felt the knot in his chest loosen, and he said, “of course we are.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie, i kind of miss other-peter :'( 
> 
> and no, spidey is not in love with wade (at least as far as he's aware), but you probably picked up on the clues that spidey isn't happy with wade's new "girlfriend". 
> 
> oh, wade. you're great in fighting situations but stick him in a pot of love and spidey and he makes up ridiculous shit like this alksdjaldja
> 
> maybe we'll get a chapter in other-peter's eyes next update? idk, we'll see lmao
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://redyarns.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/redyarns_)!

**Author's Note:**

> i dunno what i'm doing? this is my first spideypool fic lol
> 
> i'll update when i can
> 
> also i run on encouragement and your thoughts, so please leave a comment and kudos! i really want to hear what you think!
> 
> also also while you're reading this i highly recommend going to spotify or youtube and putting on some taylor swift. almost all of her songs work, though i do particularly recommend her earlier very country music as well as shake it off. idk something about her lyrics just sort of vibes with this story so i suggest it if you really wanna get into it lmao (i'm linking my personal playlist for this fic down below)
> 
> [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRUQyQ6Zw97nKcLVIRsYZ7qxBDeAQAAFB)
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://redyarns.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/redyarns_)!


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